The Dead Shall Rise Again
by Arinia
Summary: An ordinary day takes a dark turn when a zombie apocalypse grips Britain and the world. Harry and the Order are thrust into a game of survival where even magic seems to do very little to the newly awakened dead. Can they survive? ON INDEFINITE HIATUS
1. Sinister Disturbances

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which should be pretty obvious

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, which should be pretty obvious. Nor do I own the rights to any zombie/horror film. Also, obvious. **

**Summary: **An ordinary day takes a dark turn when a zombie apocalypse grips Britain and the world. Harry and the Order are thrust into a game of survival where even magic seems to do very little to the newly awakened dead. How will they survive and reverse this seemingly impossible task at the same time? Can they even?

**Characters:** I put this story as Sirius and Harry but the main characters are some members of the Order, the Weasley's, Dumbledore, and Hermione. This story will focus on the relationship between Sirius and Harry but also has a heavy emphasis on Harry's relationship with everyone else.

**Pairings:** Lupin/Tonks, Hermione/Ron, and Harry/Ginny. Don't bother shouting at me to change it, because I won't. Besides, the romance is scarce since this is a horror story not a love story.

**A/N**: So I know I should be working on Wasted Happiness, but I'm going to be frank here; I truly hate that story and what's worse is that I have severe writer's block for it. Sorry to all those who liked it. Hopefully I can get some ideas but for now, I want to start fresh with this story. I've had this idea floating in my head for awhile now. It's a mish mash of pretty much every zombie movie I've ever seen but is largely based on Dawn of the Dead (2000) and Shaun of the Dead. So read, review, and hopefully enjoy.

**Rating:** T for now because of consistent swearing, descriptive violence, and a sprinkle of romance. Might be updated to M later on.

Chapter One: Sinister Disturbances 

A messy black haired boy was walking with his back slouched and his eyes slightly narrowed against the bright sun. This boy was named Harry Potter and though he looked sullen, the truth was he was quite glad.

Uncle Vernon had just sent him with a heavy list of groceries to pick up; a unique request if Harry ever saw one. The only chores that were assigned to him were strictly to the house, the farthest he had ever gone was the lawn near the sidewalk. To say Harry was surprised when his beefy uncle had thrust the long list into his hand was an understatement. Nevertheless, Harry was glad to get out of the house. The Dursley's didn't like his aimless wanderings (thought he was communicating with freaks like himself) and had confined him to his tiny room. Harry had paced it like a caged lion, eager to do something, anything, to keep his mind off the previous June.

Last June Harry had seen Lord Voldemort come back and Cedric Diggory die. It had been haunting his dreams for weeks now. And his friends had been little comfort. Harry had been writing to them but their responses seemed vague and distant.

_I hope you're doing okay Harry. I'm fine, and so is Ron. We're doing a lot of things, boring things really though. Don't dwell on June Harry, there's nothing you can do about it. I hope you're alright. Maybe we'll see you soon?_

Even Sirius, his godfather, who Harry thought for sure would shed some light on his inquires; brushed off his questions. But he at least acknowledged Harry's mounting frustrations.

_I know you must be feeling pretty pissed off Harry but there's not much I can do now. I'm sworn to secrecy. Just keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble or Molly will skin me alive. I'll see you soon hopefully, and I promise to fill you in then. Oh and you can give me as many punches as you want if it makes you feel any better._

That had not made Harry feel any better, and just thinking of it now made a heavy crease form between his eyes. The fact was that it sounded like both his friends _and_ his godfather were together which infuriated Harry. He couldn't understand why people who barely knew each other, people who were supposed to care about _him_ were spending a nice happy little vacation together.

His brooding thoughts were interrupted as he reached his destination. He quickly grabbed a shopping cart and mechanically walked up and down the long aisles, grabbing the needed items off the shelves. He allowed himself to daydream of being back at his beloved Hogwarts. He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice the woman in front of him.

"Oh sorry!" he said apologetically. The woman gave no sign that she had noticed Harry bumping into her. She had pale, almost grayish skin, and her pale blue eyes were staring blankly ahead. "Ma'am? Are you…okay?" Again, the woman didn't respond. Harry stood there at loss for what to do. This woman seemed to be in some sort of mental state. Should he call for help?

"There you are Marianne! I've been looking for you everywhere!" An older woman came bustling up the aisle but stopped short when she caught site of her friend. "Marianne? Are you feeling okay?" Her and Harry locked eyes and Harry gave a shrug. She nodded and continued to gaze at her friend worriedly. Deciding this was his cue to leave, Harry steered his way out of the aisle. That was creepy.

A bit disconcerted, Harry finished up his shopping duty as quickly as he could. There was something about how those eyes had stared blankly ahead that made him shudder. She looked as though she was dead on her feet.

"That'll be 56.97," the pretty cashier said. Harry started to rummage around in his pockets when he stopped dead in his tracks. A man was standing with his face pressed against the window. He had scraggly brown hair and a wild beard that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in years. His clothes were dirtied and ripped but it wasn't his haggard appearance that had startled Harry. It was his pale skin and glazed over eyes. He looked like Marianne; dead on his feet.

The cashier, Victoria, noticed who he was looking at. She sighed heavily. "Chris!" she called over to the man walking by. "That hobo is here again." Chris rolled his eyes as he caught site of who was by the window.

"Alright Vicky I'll get rid of him," he muttered disdainfully. "Maybe I'll throw some change and he'll go fetch it…" Chris walked out the door, shaking his head.

"Do you have the money or what?" Victoria asked impatiently. Harry snapped back to reality. "Uh yeah I do," he murmered and fished out the needed amount. "Keep the change," he said and grabbed his bags in a hurry. He didn't want to be in this store any longer than necessary. He just hoped to God that Chris had gotten rid of that man.

No such luck. He had walked a mere five feet from the store when the man stepped in front of him. Harry jumped sending one of his bags flying to the ground. The man had his hand extended and was making raspy breathing noises with his mouth.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't have any change for you." The man made no sign that he had understood him. He continued to extend his hand forward and inch towards Harry. "Look I don't have anything!" Harry said and made to pick up his fallen bag when then man leapt onto him. Luckily, Quidditch had made his reflexes sharp and Harry threw the man off in mere seconds. He grabbed his bag and broke into a run. He threw a glance back. The hobo was following him and boy could he run. Harry sped up, trying to ignore the fact that he couldn't run all the way to the Dursley's which was a half an hour away on foot. Suddenly he spotted a bus pulling its way out of a bus stop. He jumped in front of it, waving his bags frantically. "Stop!" he yelled. "Please!"

The bus halted and the doors flung open. Harry jumped in and just in time too. The man's hand was inches away from grabbing onto Harry's oversized shirt. Panting heavily, Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the bus put more distance between him and the crazed hobo.

"Was that guy chasing you?" the burly driver asked him in a soft voice that didn't at all match his physique. Harry nodded.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after he had rummaged through his pockets. "I don't have any money. If you could just…" the driver held up a hand to silence him.

"It's alright son. That mental case was chasing you. I'm happy to be of service." Harry flashed him a smile before wearily taking a seat at the back. Something weird was definitely going on. Maybe there was a virus or something going around. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that both Marianne and the hobo had that same pale skin and glazed over pale eyes. Harry shuddered when an image of Uncle Vernon infected popped into his mind. Harry wouldn't be able to throw off his overweight uncle that was for sure.

Maybe it wasn't a virus at all. Maybe this was the work of Voldemort. Harry's face darkened. This was exactly Voldemort's sick idea of fun. Cursing Muggles and making them go loopy. Though it wasn't like any curse Harry had ever seen. Harry nervously glanced out the window half expecting Voldemort's red eyes to be gazing back at him. It made him worried that it was him who had run into both of those people. What if Voldemort was around him at this very moment, waiting for him to get off the bus and ambush him with all those sick people? Harry gripped the cold wand stashed in his right pocket.

He should write to his friends and ask him if they had ever heard of such a curse. Ron's dad worked at the Ministry and Hermione could probably look it up in a book in no time. But there was the problem of his friend's secrecy. He could almost hear Hermione's voice in his head, "_Sorry Harry, I can't tell you if such a curse exists. I'm not supposed to. You can figure it out for yourself though! Maybe you can ask that hobo what happened to him…"_

Alright so Hermione wouldn't say something as absurd as that but Harry was feeling pretty grouchy towards his friends at the moment. No, there was no sense in telling any of them, not when he was positive the response he would get would be less than enlightening. No, Harry decided firmly, he wasn't going to let his friends know what was going on with him when they were being so secretive. Two could play at that game.

11

"You're late boy," greeted a rough voice when Harry walked in the door. "I expected you back ages ago." Harry checked his watch. He was late by 6 minutes. Yes, that was certainly _ages._

"Sorry Uncle Vernon," he muttered as he put the groceries on the counter. "I ran into some people." His fat uncle waddled into the kitchen, his face contorted with anger.

"_People?_" he hissed. "You mean freaks like yourself?!" Harry looked up from putting the food away.

"No," he stated steadily. He gazed unflinchingly at his uncle's red face. Vernon used to scare him but he was no longer a child. "There were these people out there, looked like they were sick. One of them attacked me." And to his enormous surprise, his uncle stood up straight and his voice returned to normal.

"So you've seen them too eh boy?" Harry stared at him in disbelief and nodded. "Yeah those punks are all over the news. Nutters, running around jumping people. Expect they're part of some sort of cult." Harry was still dumbfounded. Vernon was talking to him as though he wasn't dirt beneath his feet. Maybe the virus had gotten him too. He discreetly checked his eyes. Nope, still small and punchy, not pale in the slightest.

"He looked homeless; the guy who er, jumped me." Vernon let out a derisive snort.

"Letting just about anyone into their little cult then. Just like your school of freaks let you in." He waddled out of the kitchen into the living room and Harry rolled his eyes. Civil conversation over apparently.

"Did they steal any food boy?" Vernon called over. There was a dangerous edge to his voice.

"No they didn't," Harry answered impatiently. Wasn't 12 bags enough proof?

"Looks like you aren't so useless after all then," his uncle said laughing to himself at his joke. Harry peered his head around the wall to where his uncle was sitting watching the news. He decided to take it as a compliment.

11

A few hours later found Harry sitting in his room, cleaning up his beloved Firebolt, a birthday present from Sirius. He desperately wished he could fly again. He hadn't gotten to play Quidditch all last year because of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry shook his head and frowned. He hated thinking about it now. Too many problems had arisen from that friggin' thing.

Suddenly he heard a light tapping at his window. To his astonishment Pig, Ron's owl, was hovering there excitedly. Harry felt delighted. The package Pig was carrying looked big. Maybe his friends had finally come to their senses and had sent him nice long letters of apologies and some explanations. He thrust open the window and Pig landed in a heap on his bed. The tiny owl hooted happily at making a successful delivery. Harry fumbled eagerly with the string around his leg and opened the package in a hurry. What he saw made his stomach clench in disappointment.

It was a package of Mrs. Weasley's famous cooking. Cakes, pies, chicken sandwiches; they were all here. And for once in his life, Harry didn't want it. It just made him angrier with his friends. They thought they could win him over with a couple of treats?

"Boy! Supper!" his uncle's voice shouted at him. Harry looked down at the food in the package, so lovingly prepared, and thought to the looks of disgust and the small portions waiting for him downstairs. And surprising even himself, Harry stood up and threw the food roughly in the trash and went downstairs to a dinner of stale roast beef with people who hated his guts.

If Harry had looked out the window once more he would have met the shock of his life. For the homeless man was now staring up at his house with the same glazed over look, his hand still extended for the change he never received. He had followed Harry home. Except now he was covered in fresh blood.


	2. The Apocalypse

Chapter Two: The Apocalypse

Chapter Two: The Apocalypse

"_Kill the spare…"_

"_Come out and fight like a man Potter! I want to see the light drain from your eyes…"_

"_CEDRIC!!" _

_A woman screamed off in the distance…_

Harry jumped awake from his terrifying nightmare. He sat-up breathing heavily for a few moments. He had had this same nightmare for weeks and it never ceased to frighten him. He rubbed his eyes wearily. He hadn't ever dreamed of that scream though.

The scream came again. Harry felt his eyes widen. That was no dream. It sounded like his Aunt Petunia.

"NO VERNON!! PLEASE! PLEASE!" Harry leapt out of bed. Never in all his years of living with the Dursley's had he heard Aunt Petunia scream like that. He could hear loud sobs coming from downstairs and what sounded like things being broken. Harry grabbed his glasses and wand from the side table. If he didn't know any better, it almost sounded like Uncle Vernon was smacking Aunt Petunia around.

BANG. Another terrible scream. Harry crept to his door. He may loathe Petunia, but not even she deserved to get abused by her husband. He needed to take action.

Before he could open his door however, his skinny aunt came tumbling through. She looked very white and she was coated in blood. She was carrying a large butcher knife. She quickly locked the door and grabbed on to Harry's shoulders.

"Harry! Harry your alive! You're sane!" she whispered. Tears were running down her face and she was looking at Harry like she had never looked at him before. There was no hate or disdain in her eyes. They were pleading and helpless. Harry couldn't help but feel shocked. Whatever Vernon was doing, it had scared Petunia badly.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked looking worriedly at the blood on her dress. "What's going on Aunt Petunia? What's wrong?" She didn't answer. She ran to his window instead and thrust it open.

"We have to get out of here Harry. Quick follow me. Take your wand!" Harry was beyond confused.

"Aunt Petunia, we should call the police…"

"No time Harry! Now, out the window!" Suddenly a loud bang was heard at his door. A growly sound like Harry had never heard was issuing behind it. Petunia gave a shriek and grabbed onto Harry's hand.

"NOW!" she screamed at him. Harry sprang onto his desk knocking over the lamp. But it was too late. His door blasted open with a sound like a cannon. Uncle Vernon was there. He was ghostly white and his eyes were pale and deadened. Before Harry could react to Vernon's appearance, his uncle had run into the room and grabbed onto his legs. Petunia let out a terrible scream and got into a desperate tug of war over Harry. Harry held onto the window sill for dear life as his two relatives fought like mad. It felt like his legs were about to be ripped out.

Then his uncle let out a wounded sound that chilled Harry to the bone. He felt his legs slacken and he looked around to see Aunt Petunia stabbing Vernon over and over again.

"GO NOW HARRY!" she screamed. Harry didn't want to leave Aunt Petunia with Vernon who had clearly gone insane like the homeless man and Marianne. Thinking quickly he whipped out his wand and yelled "_Stupefy!"_

Uncle Vernon flew back against his dresser and slumped to the ground. His blood from his stab wounds had soaked Harry's bed and the walls. Aunt Petunia turned to him and looked horrified with herself.

"I just stabbed my husband," she whispered. Harry got off his dresser and hesitantly squeezed her shoulders. A small part of him was amazed that she didn't throw his hand away.

"It's alright Aunt Petunia, he isn't Uncle Vernon anymore. The real Uncle Vernon is…in a better place. I promise," Harry said as reassuring as he could. In the back of his mind, he felt surreal. Was this really happening? Aunt Petunia swallowed loudly.

"Come on, let's go," she said. Harry didn't need telling twice. He was halfway out the window when the raspy growly sound met his ears. He turned his head horrified to see Uncle Vernon slowly getting to his feet.

His spell hadn't worked.

Harry didn't want to stick around any longer. He catapulted his body out the window. The rose bush below cushioned his fall and he quickly scrambled to his feet. Aunt Petunia practically threw herself from his bedroom nearly missing the bushes. Harry helped her to her feet and they broke into a run. When Harry rounded the corner of the house he stopped dead in his tracks.

The only way to describe the scene was apocalyptic. Fire's burned sky-high, bodies were everywhere, screaming, pandemonium, death, people chasing other people who had the same pale skin and making the same horrible noises that Vernon was making…it was something worse than Voldemort.

"Come on Harry, to the car to the car!" Aunt Petunia whispered. Harry wondered why she was whispering. It seemed so unnatural compared to the constant screams he was hearing. In a daze, Harry followed his terrified aunt to the Dursley's blue sedan. Harry helped his aunt open the door and was pushed in. Petunia scrambled in shortly after. Her shaky hands had trouble getting the key into the ignition. Harry snatched the keys out of her hand and started the car with a roar. Coming to her senses, Petunia swung the car out of the driveway and took off in a hurry. It was just then that Harry remembered his cousin.

"Dudley! Aunt Petunia where's Dudley?" She didn't look at him as she desperately swerved to avoid hitting a crazy person who had jumped in front of the car.

"We're going to get him," she said softly. "Ohhh my baby, I hope he's okay," she moaned. Harry remembered that Dudley was staying at a friend's house and had a lead feeling creep into his stomach. He hoped his cousin was okay too. He didn't have the heart to ask if Petunia had called to see if he was alright.

It was the most horrifying drive Harry had ever experienced. It seemed the longer they drove, the more disturbing the events got. There were more bodies lining the street and more than once a paled freak had tried to stop their car. One of them had actually jumped on the hood and tried in vain to break the windshield. Petunia had screamed bloody murder and swerved the car sharply around a curve to dismantle him.

Years later Harry would marvel at the fact that only one thought would penetrate his terrified mind: Dudley. He had no conscious thought of anything else; well not until a crazed maniac would try to halt their journey. He seemed to lock out all the terror and pain around him. As they approached the house where Dudley was staying, Harry seemed to snap back to reality. This neighborhood had been hit hard. The fires here were burning fast and furious. Many cars were overturned and blood soaked the streets. When they got to the house, Harry's heart sank. The door was hanging off its hinges in an ominous way and the windows had been smashed. Aunt Petunia stopped the car but didn't cut the gas. Her hands were shaking, her face the whitest Harry had ever seen.

"Stay here," she whispered. "Drive away if anything happens." Harry nodded. He slid into her seat as she quietly got out of the car. Harry's heart was pumping fast. He kept swiveling his head to see if anymore of those…_people_ were around. He ducked down as low as he could go when he spotted three chasing a red-headed woman down the street. She was crying out, "Oh my God HELP! SOMEONE HELP PLEASE!" Harry closed his eyes shamefully. He wished he could help her. But how could he without drawing attention to himself? And he would certainly like to know what the fuck was going on here. Since when did a whole group of people start attacking people overnight?

Minutes passed but it felt like an eternity to Harry. He risked a glance out the car window. No sign of his aunt or his cousin. He had a half mind to go out there when he heard Petunia, who sounded close by, say in relief, "Dudley! Oh Dudley!" Harry felt relived as well. Dudley was alright thank God.

His relief was short-lived. Seconds later Petunia let out a terrible scream. Abandoning all pretense, his head shot up from its hiding place to witness the most horrible sight he would ever see. Dudley had tackled his mom to the ground and was biting her neck vigorously. Aunt Petunia's blood was spurting everywhere. Harry didn't even think. He opened the car door, whipped out his wand, and not caring that magic didn't seem to work he screamed, "_STUPEFY!" _

The spell momentarily stopped his now insane cousin but Harry barely noticed. His shouting had attracted more of the…people, and five were now making a beeline towards him and his wounded aunt. Harry quickly grabbed her hand and hurried her to the car, tossing her in not so gently. He slammed the car door shut just as one of those freaks slammed into the side.

"Don't worry Aunt Petunia we'll get you to a hospital!" Harry cried as he ripped off his shirt and tore it in half. She was bleeding pretty badly; the blood was soaking her seat. Harry quickly put his make-shift bandage to her gaping wound and guided her hand to hold it. The five were now pounding on the car making Harry more panicked by the second. He jammed his foot on the pedal but nothing happened! "Fuck!!" he shouted as he continued to stomp his foot. He tried the other one, no luck there either. Finally he tried the last one and shot forward at a tremendous speed…right into a telephone pole.

He had never driven before in his life.

Harry looked around desperately. Aunt Petunia was starting to make gargling noises which was never a good sign. The freaks were unperturbed by his crash and were running towards the car again. Harry hit on the gas pedal again but the wheels only spun further into the grass.

"Fuck reverse, reverse! How do I reverse?!" He tried pushing every button he could find but to no avail. He probably could have figured it out earlier on in his life but 4 years of learning magic had replaced his general knowledge of vehicles.

BANG! Harry jumped to see that the pale people had finally caught up with him. They were back to pounding on his window. This did not help his situation. He was becoming more panicked. He pulled down on a lever which sprayed water onto the face of one of the freaks who hissed angrily and pounded harder on the windshield.

Then there was a horrible cracking sound. Harry whipped around to the passenger side window where one of them was finally breaking the glass. In seconds he would have full access to Aunt Petunia and who knows what he'd do to her?

Suddenly there was a metallic click beside Harry. He looked down to see Aunt Petunia's hand on a lever. "G-gas," she whispered in a strained voice. Harry didn't need to ask what she meant. He hit the gas and was sent vaulting backwards onto the street. Learning from his earlier mistake he hastily took his foot off when he had reached where he wanted to. One of the people, the guy on the hood of the car, had managed to hang on despite the car's sudden movement. Harry didn't want to give him the chance to break through the glass too. He turned his eyes to Aunt Petunia's; eyes so unlike her sister's, and silently pleaded with her for help. Aunt Petunia understood. With a large groan of effort, she managed to push the lever into drive and then her head fell into Harry's lap.

At any other time, Harry would felt embarrassed, and shocked at the very least. But this was a crisis situation. He slammed down on the accelerator and with his rookie steering managed to dislodge the person with sheer luck. He tore out of the neighborhood, crashing into various objects like trashcans, children's toys and even other cars. But Harry was least concerned with his terrible driving; Aunt Petunia was growing paler as they drove on. Harry knew she didn't have long.

"Don't worry Aunt Petunia we'll get help!" Harry said in a determined voice. She was making sounds as well as her gargling which lead Harry to believe she was having flashbacks.

"'ry" she moaned softly. Harry stole a quick glance at her. He hadn't a clue what she just said.

"Where's the hospital? Where is it!" he muttered to himself. He had only been there a couple times in his life and had no idea what street it was on. To make things worse, the neighborhood he was in was completely unfamiliar to him. He veered sharply as a paled freak jumped in front of his car and nearly crashed into a sane person.

"Sorry!" he screamed pointlessly as the windows were up and the person had already run in the opposite direction.

"'ry," she moaned again. Harry's knuckles turned white from clenching the steering wheel.

"Don't worry Aunt Petunia I'll get help I promise!" But even as he said it, a horrible realization dawned on him. Who was going to help them? A quick glance at the window told Harry that there were more insane people than sane. And even if he could find someone who hadn't been infected or whatever, they were probably preoccupied with trying to maintain their own survival. The situation was looking desperately bleak.

Wait a second. He was a wizard wasn't he? He could ask Dumbledore or Sirius or one of the Weasley's for help right? But as soon as Harry's brilliant idea hit him, cold reality set in. He could ask them for help but how? His Firebolt was back at the Dursley's and he'd be damned if he was going back there. He didn't know how to Apparate, he had no clue where Sirius was, and how was he supposed to get to Hogwarts or the Weasley's from here?

But couldn't he heal Aunt Petunia's wound? He looked down at her stark white face. She was still holding his ripped pajama shirt, which was covered in blood, to her neck. He racked his brain desperately for a remedy spell but he couldn't think of one he had learned. He let out a roar of frustration. He was starting to feel hopeless.

"H-h-ry," his aunt whispered. Harry tore his eyes away from the road momentarily to look at Aunt Petunia. It sounded like she had uttered his name. She was gazing up at him and her free hand was reaching towards his face.

"I said don't worry Aunt…"

"Q-q-quiet," she hissed. Harry stared at her amazed. She had sounded so much like her old self it stunned him. Her shaking hand had finally reached its destination and rested on his cheek. It was cold and clammy. "'ry," she whispered again, her briskness had disappeared. Harry felt fear creep into him. It sounded like she was going to die. No! He couldn't have the only adult, the only _sane_ one around here, die on him! He tried to return his eyes to the road but Aunt Petunia made a sound of protest. He looked back at her and time seemed to slow to a crawl. She had tears in her eyes.

"'ry," she whispered again and the tears spilled down her pale cheeks. "I-I sorry," she moaned. Harry felt a lump rise in his throat. They locked eyes one last time, her icy blue ones against his emerald green. And then with one last shuddering breath, the light flew out of them and her head fall back in his lap.

All time froze in that blue sedan. Harry was in a daze as he screamed at his aunt, begging her to wake up, cursing at everything he could think of. He hardly cared about what was going on around him as he whipped down the main road, clipping both sane and insane people.

And then the unthinkable happened. His aunt's head started to slowly rise from his now blood-stained jeans. Harry did a double take as she returned to an upright sitting position. He couldn't believe it. He stupidly wondered for a moment whether his screaming had actually saved her from death.

"Aunt Petunia?" he asked breathlessly. Her head slowly turned to face him and his amazement flooded out of him. Her skin was nearly grey, her pupils dilated, her blue eyes looking paled, looking _deadened._ Petunia's lips curled into a snarl and that horrible raspy sound issued from her mouth. Harry realized with horror that she had turned into _one of them._

She lunged at him, hissing madly. Harry let out a scream and moved sharply to avoid her. Suddenly, the car was airborne and within seconds Harry blacked out.

When Harry came to he felt disoriented and his head oddly warm. He tested out his limbs, nothing felt broken. He arms fell to his sides…well no they didn't. They were dangling. Everything was blurry. In the haziness of his mind, Harry came to the conclusion that they were missing. He tried to move but something was holding him.

His hands sluggishly felt around for what was keeping him captive. "A seatbelt," he muttered aloud as he felt the button near his hip. He gently pressed it and crashed to the floor with a thud. He squinted at his surroundings. He couldn't make out much. His head hurt so much, and he couldn't remember what he was doing. Well a seatbelt must mean he was in a car right, but upside down?

He gently felt along the car until he discovered an opening but not before swearing in pain. It was the window he had found, which was shattered. A piece of glass had gotten caught in his hand. Figuring it was the least of his concerns, Harry crawled out of the car into the dizzyingly bright sunlight. He started to remember his Aunt Petunia; she had been with him. Hmmm where was she?

"Aunt Petunia," he slurred as he staggered around trying to gather his bearings. He felt so dizzy and nauseas, it didn't help that he could barely see anything. He tripped over something long and hard which brought him to the ground. He let out a groan and touched his hands to his face. They felt wet for some reason.

"Aunt Petunia," he tried again. He struggled to his feet. He looked around for her but everything was just a blurry, blight mess to him. He lumbered off to the right and felt grass tickling his bare feet. He heard a giggle. It was coming from his mouth. He smiled at himself and laughed more. "I'm coming Aunt Petunia," he laughed. _This must be a game_ he thought to himself gleefully.

He bumped into another hard thing. He squinted at it but couldn't make heads or tail of the sight he was seeing. Whatever it was, it was long and grey. He placed his wet hands on it and felt his way around. It stopped short abruptly some 3 seconds later.

"I won!" he slurred delightfully. He started to laugh again. He staggered away from the grey thing, walking faster this time. "Aunt Petunia!" he called. A vague cut through his hazy euphoria, hadn't she been hurt? But before he could contemplate this new information, he felt the grass suddenly stop tickling his feet and be replaced by pure air. He felt himself falling down into a pit of blackness, spinning every which way until he stopped cold, and saw no more.

**A/N:** I should have mentioned in my previous chapter that there will be more than one character death. I haven't exactly decided who I'll be killing off so I encourage you to make your case for a character; someone you wouldn't mind dying or someone who if I dare kill, I'll never hear the end of it. Thank-you.


	3. The Beginning of the End

**A/N: **So after only a little deliberation (because let's be honest, I really do want to get back into story writing!), and encouragement from some very loyal readers, I HAVE decided to start this story up again! I found a skeleton of this chapter lurking in the depths of my computer and I liked it, so I beefed it up, and here it is. It turns to the Order now, so you'll have to stick around to see what has become of poor Harry! This is unbetad so all mistakes are mine. I hope, after all these years, this chapter does not disappoint. I am feeling the pressure to deliver now thanks to all my very loyal readers who have been so patient with me, so hopefully this lives up to your expectations. If it doesn't, I LOVE constructive criticism, I'm a big girl and can take it. Just don't flame, it doesn't help me improve. Thanks again to all who reviewed and said please write again, I continue for you! Okay enough rambling! On with the show!

Randomchick16: I would love to take you up on your offer to be my beta. Your messaging feature isn't activated so I couldn't reply to your review but if you are reading this and are still interested, please let me know and we can go from there! Thank you so so much for offering!

Chapter Three: The Beginning of the End

Sirius Black was glum.

Leaning his back against the wall, he absent-mindedly stroked Buckbeak, his loyal companion who had taken an extreme liking to Sirius after a year on the run together. Sirius smiled grimly. Two wanted men on the run from the law who only had their wits to keep them safe.

But they were no longer on the run now. Shut up in Grimmauld Place, after only a few months the pair were both feeling the darkness of depression creep in. Sirius had tried to tell Dumbledore it wasn't right to keep a wild animal caged up in a house for months at a time. "He deserves to be out there, flying, stretching his wings. It's damn near cruelty what we're doing to him. At least let him get out once in a while!" But Dumbledore had refused. Sirius understood his logic; Buckbeak's execution hadn't disappeared when he had, and Dumbledore would be even more trouble than he already was if Buckbeak was seen. But still. Sirius had faintly hoped that Dumbledore might extrapolate that HE wanted to get out once in a while.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

His only consolation had been writing to Harry, yet Harry's replies had gone from lengthy letters to mere paragraphs. Sirius couldn't blame him, he'd do the exact same thing what with everyone been shrouded in secrecy and sending cryptic letters. But still. Those letters had been the only bright spot in a long tunnel of bleakness Sirius had been careening down ever since Harry came back with a dead body slung over his shoulders. Some days, Sirius considered saying to hell with the Order, and taking Buckbeak to Harry. Yet that would be utter hypocrisy from a man who had been telling his godson to keep his nose clean.

So, for the umpteenth time, to keep his sanity, he slid down the wall to the hard, cold floor, pulled out another scroll of parchment, and began writing to Harry.

_Hiya Harry,_

_ I know your birthday is coming up soon, and I'm trying my damndest to convince everyone to bring you here for it, or even before then. I know it may not feel like now, but I'm on your side. Really, I am._

Sirius paused, wondering if those words sounded too…needy. Well, he had sent Harry about 15 letters in a little over a month, if Harry thought him needy it wouldn't be from the way he styled his letters. So to hell with it then. He would write how he wanted.

_I know I keep saying this, but DO NOT DO ANYTHING STUPID. I cannot stress this enough. I know, hypocritical right? But take me at my word Harry. I wouldn't stress it, if I didn't have cause for concern. I know you're pissed. I KNOW. If I could do anything about the secrecy, don't you think I would? I'm trying, but I'm outnumbered in opinion. _

Sirius paused again. He was practically pleading with his godson not to be mad. At any other time, Sirius would have been disgusted with himself at such an overt display of vulnerability. But being at this place made him crazy, and he'd rather tell Harry about his feelings than anyone else.

_I'm feeling just as alone as you are,_

So now he was treating Harry like a diary. But oh well.

_so we can be miserable together haha. When you come here, and that's a when, not an if I hope you notice, I'll fill you in on EVERYTHING, I promise, even the things the others don't want you to know. But I'll tell you, you deserve to know. I hope you like the treats Molly sent you two days ago. That was my idea I'll have you know. See? I do have your back. _

_ Sirius_

With a flick of his wand, the ink was dried, the scroll rolled up neatly, and Sirius heaved his thin frame off the floor to find an owl. Maybe this letter would beckon a return to the essay like letters he loved to receive. Maybe.

11111111111111111111111111

"We have a very grave problem." It was an Order meeting, and Sirius was disengaged. He was tracing shapes on the dusty table, his head propped up by his hand. Dumbledore was blathering on again. He knew it was important; this was Voldemort they were talking about, but Sirius couldn't bring himself to care. Dumbledore had already made it very clear Sirius' only use would be to play host. He wouldn't even give him the courtesy of being a foot solider.

"There are muted rumblings that the dead are coming back to life." Blah, blah, blah, Sirius thought moodily as he wiped out his shapes with a sweep of his hand. Voldemort was using Inferi, what else was new?

"Inferi?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked in his deep, rich voice.

"That is what I thought at first as well, but it doesn't seem to be. It is the recently deceased, and they are primarily situated in the Muggle World. Moreover, rumour has it that the dead can turn others like them by transmitting bodily fluids, usually by a bite." Sirius rolled his eyes. Inferi. That's exactly what it sounded like.

"What do you mean, 'muted rumblings'?" Mad-eye Moody barked. Sirius was now doodling on the underside of his forearm. He was so pale that his drawings could be mistaken for tattoos. Sirius smirked, remembering his wench of a mother's reaction when he had showed up with a Muggle tattoo on his shoulder after a wild night out with James.

"The reports are scarce and differ wildly in details. The only common theme is what I just outlined. There doesn't seem to be many yet, thankfully, but it seems like Voldemort has found another way to raise the dead besides bewitching them. They do not seem to be acting like mere puppets, indeed some reports say they have retained primitive logical skills and have some degree of free-will. We will have to stop them before they multiply. Sirius." Sirius lazily looked up at the mention of his name. Dumbledore was giving him a rather severe look that Sirius did not appreciate.

"You will have to warn Harry." Sirius sighed heavily, and proceeded to immerse himself in an exaggerated stretch. He had not really been listening, and he saw no reason why he would have to warn Harry, though if it gave him another excuse to write to him, he was all for it. Dumbledore and the others were glaring at his laissez-faire attitude.

"Remind me again why I have to warn a boy who's more than capable of taking care of himself?" Sirius drawled slowly, relishing in the fact that he was angering the others. Well they deserved it. They had all voted to keep him shut up in this house. Sirius would exercise his little chances of payback with gusto. Dumbledore continued to stare unblinkingly.

"Harry, while an extremely brave and capable young man, does not have the knowledge or skills to take on hordes of Inferi. Like Dementors, it is one thing to take on one, quite another to deal with hundreds." Sirius began to crack his knuckles, still looking as calm as calm could be. Inside though, he did feel a tinge of worry, but he'd be damned if he gave Dumbledore the satisfaction of being right. When he didn't answer right away, Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, peering over his half-moon spectacles with a firm gaze.

"Alright, alright, I'll write to him," Sirius said finally, launching into another long stretch. "But you really need to give him more credit; he's a smart kid, he doesn't need adults running behind him all his life. Besides," Sirius paused, lifting his steely grey eyes to stare Dumbledore straight in the face, "if you _really_ cared about him, you'd allow him to come here." Dumbledore did not reply, though Sirius could swear there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

11111111111111111111111111

What seemed after only a few minutes of sleep, Sirius found himself being roughly shaken awake. He was astounded to find his best friend Remus being the culprit.

"Bloody hell Remus! Do you have any idea what time it is?" Seeing Remus' face stopped Sirius from making any more remarks. Remus was nearly as pale as he was, his face contorted into pure panic. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"Harry."

Immediately, Sirius was out of bed, hastily pulling an old Gryffindor jumper over his bony body. He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, and if it wasn't for the adrenaline now surging through his veins, he surely would have collapsed on the floor from how hard he was trembling.

"Is he hurt? Is he missing? Kidnapped?" Sirius couldn't bear to say the last word that he had been thinking. But Remus wouldn't answer, couldn't answer, and only flew down the stairs to the kitchen, Sirius hot on his trail.


	4. Vernon Says Hello

**A/N: **You know what happens when you spend your days off of work watching the George Romero classics? You start writing of course! I promise we'll see what has become of poor Harry next chapter, I'm not so mean! Again, any reviews are love, and well-rounded, thoughtful critiques are gold.

Thanks to my awesome beta randomchick16, who is already pushing me into thinking of interesting twists to the story, and is full of great ideas!

Chapter Four: Vernon Says "Hello"

"If they're not Inferi, what could they be?"

"They're multiplying too fast!"

"Where's the Ministry in all this? That useless prick, Fudge…"

"What should we do Dumbledore?"

"Of course they're Inferi! It's Voldemort, of course!"

"Where's Harry?" Sirius entered into a chaos of voices, all competing for Dumbledore's sole attention. It was deafening in the kitchen. Sirius wasn't the only one who had gotten Remus's panicked wake-up call. The entire Weasley family and Hermione were gathered around the kitchen table in their pyjamas. All of them had frightened looks on their faces. Kingsley, Snape, Tonks, and Mad-Eye were also present, though their faces had taken on an expression of grim calm. Sirius's foray into the shouting match had gone unnoticed. With a flick of his wand, the air popped startling everyone into silence.

"I said where is my godson?" Nobody said a word. Sirius was panting heavily from rushing down the stairs, his wand still gripped tightly in his hand. "Remus said Harry was in trouble. Where is he, Dumbledore?"

"Sirius, did you write to Harry like I asked you?"

"Of course I did!" Sirius snapped, not seeing the point of the question. "Where is he? Is he alright or not?" Dumbledore's blue eyes bored into Sirius; they held none of their infamous twinkle now. Instead they were hard, and cut through Sirius like a jackknife.

"Then he may still be alright," Dumbledore murmured. He turned to them all now. "The Inferi are taking over the Muggle world. Their numbers have multiplied faster than I could have predicted. Voldemort is clearly throwing caution to the wind and using the Ministry's proud ignoring of his return to his advantage. Now, we may still have a chance at getting them under control. But Harry is in grave danger. Kingsley, Severus, Arthur, Alastor, Bill, Remus, Tonks, you must come with me to rescue him from Privet Drive."|

"Now wait just a second!" Sirius cried. "What about me?" Dumbledore frowned at Sirius' outburst.

"You must remain behind, Sirius." Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"The hell I will!" he bellowed, making Hermione jump. "This is my godson we're talking about!" Dumbledore's eyes flashed, normally making any rational man fall silent. But Sirius stood his ground, marching over to Dumbledore. Sirius was one of the tallest men in the Order, and he had no trouble looking Dumbledore straight in the eyes.

"This is not a debate, Sirius! You are to stay behind with the others and help protect them if need be. Do you forget that you have the Dementor's Kiss awaiting you if the Ministry catches wind that you are in Britain?"

"Do you really think the Ministry will care if I'm running around when there are Inferi around every Muggle street corner? I'm not staying behind, Dumbledore!" The two men stared hard at each other, each unwilling to break contact, each hoping the other would crumble underneath their glower. Sensing that Dumbledore would not see his way, he turned to the others. Surely they would understand his side.

"Well? A little help here?" Silence. Sirius looked around at them all. "What? Am I the bad guy once again? Come on! Dumbledore isn't God you know, we don't have to listen to whatever comes out of his mouth!" But he would get no response, only wide-eyed, worried looks from those who had not lived through the first War, and blank expressions from those who knew Voldemort's depravity first hand. "Remus?" Sirius asked, turning to his best friend, and seemingly only ally.

"Albus…" Remus started slowly, his even pace at odds with the buzzing tension in the room. "You can't honestly expect Sirius to remain behind while Harry may potentially be at the mercy of Voldemort. Would any of you, if your loved one was in danger?" he asked the group. They all shifted uncomfortably, but were unwilling to disobey their leader. Dumbledore drew in a heavy sigh, willing himself to calm down.

"Sirius," he began softly, "I understand that…"

"No you don't understand, Dumbledore, you dick!" Sirius exploded, pounding his fist on the table. He cast one last look around the Order, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fine," he spat. "I can see I'm outnumbered once again. Remus, take care of Harry. The rest of you can fuck right off." He whirled around, slamming the door behind him as he pounded up the stairs.

Sirius's heart was thumping wildly as he reached his room on the fourth floor. He felt like he had just been slapped in the face by his supposed comrades- in- arms. He was astounded Molly hadn't spoken up in his defense. Sure, they hadn't always seen eye to eye on Harry but she was a doting mother, surely she understood why he _needed_ to be part of the rescue effort!

But that's where the chips had fallen. So be it then. Sirius wasn't one to sit around wallowing about being betrayed. No, if he had to strike out on his own for a while to make sure Harry was safe, he was more than willing to do that. It wasn't that he didn't trust the others to successfully retrieve Harry, but he had to be there. He _had _to be! James and Lily had entrusted him with Harry's survival, not Dumbledore and his precious Death Eater Snape. Sirius could have spat thinking about that slimy git. Snape would probably hand Harry right over to the Inferi if he had his way.

He hurriedly rummaged around his messy room to pack a small bag. If he found Harry first, he'd bring him back to Grimmauld Place straight away, but one could never be too prepared when it came to Voldemort. As he fished out some clothes from his dresser, his hand came across a cold object. Sirius paused, brushing away a few shirts until he found it. He gazed upon it for a couple seconds, picking the small item up and turning it over in his right hand. He had forgotten all about this thing; it had been years since he last seen it. He quickly opened it. Still looked like the day he had bought it. Sirius decided to bring it, just in case.

A loud _POP_ reverberated from downstairs. Knowing the rescue team had just Apparated, Sirius quickly stole out of his room, making sure those left behind weren't prowling around keeping an eye on him. He noiselessly moved down the stairs, unsure of how he would leave without notifying the others, until he heard a soft exhale of air coming from the drawing room. Buckbeak. Of course, why hadn't he thought of his old outlaw friend?

He hurried in front of Buckbeak, quickly bowing and untethering him from the restrictive leather harness Dumbledore had insisted upon. "Hey old boy," Sirius murmured, stroking Buckbeak's soft feathers. Buckbeak nuzzled against Sirius's hand, letting out a happy grunt at seeing his master.

"Come on, time we had ourselves another little adventure." He hopped up onto his back easily. Luckily, the drawing room had a large bay window, large enough for Buckbeak to fly out without anyone being the wiser. Sirius charmed the locked window opened, gently squeezed the muscular sides, and with a swish of Buckbeak's large wings, the pair were soaring off into the grey dawn.

It was silent on Privet Drive. The loud _POP_ of the rescue team's Apparations seemed unnatural. Though there were screams in the distance, and the scene around them was one of sheer destruction, it was eerily quiet. All eight had their wands at the ready.

"Which house did you say it was, Albus?" Kingsley asked, his eyes darting every which way, on the lookout for Inferi. Dumbledore looked grim.

"Number 4," he replied. The eight swivelled their heads to the right. Number 4 was about 50 metres from where they were standing and it did not look hopeful. There was no car in the driveway, though there were skid marks, as though someone had made a hasty getaway. The door was nowhere to be seen; only a gaping hole greeted them. Tonks swallowed loudly. She had only ever heard of such devastation in her young life.

She looked at Remus, a man she had been attracted to since she first shook his calloused hand. His sad eyes had mesmerized her and she cared not that he was an outcast in magical society. His face was taut, eyes narrowed. She longed to be the one comforting him. Instead, she turned to her mentor, Mad-Eye Moody, and moved beside him.

"Stay close Nymphadora," he ordered. She did not protest her name. The group edged forward, knowing that one small noise would alert any Inferi to their presence. Tonks wished she could call out to Harry, but she kept her mouth shut. The adrenaline pumping through her body urged her to make a bold move, but she resisted.

"Stop," Mad-Eye hissed suddenly. His right hand was held up, his electric blue eye spinning madly in his socket. "There's an Inferius in there, a big fat ass by the looks of him. He's soaked in blood." Dumbledore's lips were pressed hard together.

"Voldemort may have gotten to Harry's uncle." The mood suddenly shifted in the group. The implications were enormous. If Voldemort had killed Harry's uncle and bewitched him into an Inferius, then Harry could be…

"I don't see anyone else in the house, Dumbledore," Mad-Eye growled. "But there's blood everywhere. If this was Voldemort, it looks like he brought a knife instead of his wand."

"We should check anyway," Arthur stated fiercely, "just to be sure." Mad-Eye turned to him, looking offended.

"Don't trust my eye-sight, Weasley?"

"I never said that, Alastor. But better we make sure then leave and possibly leave Harry behind with an Inferius. He could be hiding somewhere."

"Or he could be gone. Look, Albus, there's tire marks in the driveway. Harry and his relatives may have gotten away," Kingsley pointed out.

"I agree with Arthur," Dumbledore finally responded. "I trust you, Alastor, and I thank you highly for alerting us to the Inferius. Harry and his aunt, uncle, and cousin may have gotten away, but I could not leave in good conscience without checking. There's only one, Alastor?" Mad-Eye scanned the outside again.

"As far as I can reckon, Dumbledore." Dumbledore nodded curtly.

"One will be easy enough to deal with. We are lucky. Alastor, Kingsley, you are with me in tackling the Inferius. The rest of you split up and search the house for Harry. Arthur, Remus, I want you to especially announce your presence. Harry knows you; he'll come out if he hears you."

The group continued to move slowly forward, huddled closely together. Tonks feared if her heart pounded any faster she'd have a heart attack. Still, with Mad-Eye in front of her she felt protected. When they reached the door, or what would have been a door, they all flattened themselves against the brick wall, allowing Dumbledore to be the first to peer inside.

Not seeing anything, Dumbledore continued to stealthily move indoors, Mad-Eye and Kingsley flanking him on either side. Mad-Eye wasn't kidding when he said there were profuse amounts of blood. Dumbledore knit his eyebrows together. In all the places he had been to recover bodies in the War, he had never seen Voldemort behind such carnage. No, Voldemort preferred his murders to be clean and quick. If anything this looked like the work of Fenrir Greyback, but Greyback was certainly not skilled enough to create an army of Inferi. The trio reached the living room and were surprised to find nothing there, though there was blood spattered across the wall, and several shards of glass crunched underneath their boots. Kingsley quickly peered into the kitchen. Again, nothing. Mad-Eye suddenly let out a vehement expression.

"Dumbledore, it's…!"

Arthur and his group moved slowly upstairs, wincing at every creak. The amount of blood was thicker the higher they climbed; the choking stench of iron made Tonks gag. God, she hoped Harry wasn't here. She had been lucky enough not to see a dead body in her young Auror career, and she wasn't gunning to see her first anytime soon.

"Harry!" Arthur whispered frantically. "Harry! It's me, Mr. Weasley!"

"We're here to rescue you," Remus chimed in. The two men reached the last stair and looked in opposite directions down the hall. Turning back, they nodded curtly at each other and took the final step to the top floor.

"Okay," Arthur began, "half of you come with me this way, the rest…"

BANG!

"OH, FUCK!" The trio downstairs sprang into action. With a speed that clashed with his age, Dumbledore was at the top of the stairs in mere seconds, unceremoniously shoving Arthur, who had uttered the expletive, and Remus behind him. What they saw was a ghastly sight. Mad-Eye hadn't been lying when he described the Inferius as a "fat-ass". They saw his stomach before his face. But, oh, his face! Ghostly pale, paler than even Sirius, eyes as deadened and clouded as a foggy London night. Dumbledore felt his heart sink. He recognized that pale face. It was Harry's uncle after all.

Upon seeing the crowd, Vernon bared his teeth, issuing an unearthly shriek usually only heard by the foulest banshee. He lurched towards them, blood dripping from his various stab wounds. Stab wounds?

Dumbledore slashed his wand downwards, sending a stream of scorching flames towards Vernon. It engulfed the man within seconds, Vernon screeching as his flesh burnt, but still lunging down the hallway. Dumbledore's eyes widened. Why was he still moving? Inferius loathed anything bright; normally a powerful fire such as that would have brought Vernon to his knees. Yet even as the flames ate away at his corpse exterior, Vernon still moved, still growled, and the now exposed skull had his teeth barred.

"CONFRINGO!" Out of nowhere, Tonks had thrown herself in front of Dumbledore, who had raised his wand to preform another spell. Tonks had aimed her Blasting Curse directly at Vernon's head, causing it to explode, sending blood and brain matter spattering against the walls. She stood there, with her wand still pointed dead in front of her, her petite chest heaving from exertion. Dumbledore slowly lowered his wand. For the first time, in a very long time, the group saw their mentor with a look of undisguised shock.

Mad-Eye allowed himself a grin. He clapped his protégée on the shoulder, pride gleaming in his one normal eye. "Good God, Nymphadora, your reflexes have improved tenfold." Tonks couldn't help but steal a quick glance at Remus, who was looking thoroughly impressed. Tonks felt a small tinge of pink on her cheeks.

Kingsley however was not looking so pleased. He exchanged a meaningful look with Dumbledore, both their faces drained of colour. The others, minus Severus, were congratulating Tonks on her quick thinking, until they fell silent looking at Dumbledore.

"It is very clear to me," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "that we are not dealing with Inferi."

"What are we dealing with then?" Bill breathed.

Dumbledore didn't answer.


	5. Inferi? Cannibals? Imperio?

**A/N: **Wow, I was not expecting the amount of notifications for this story that flooded my inbox after chapter four. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, put this on their favourite story list, or on a story alert! You guys are all amazing!

Chapter Five: Inferi? Cannibals? Imperio? 

The silence was suffocating in the kitchen. Molly had attempted to distract herself by whipping up an elaborate breakfast for those left behind, declaring that well-nourished stomachs would help dispel the worry everyone was feeling. However, Hermione could only think one thing: Her parents.

Perhaps, it was selfish. Her best friend was out there unprotected after all, and he had the most powerful Dark wizard gunning for his demise. Yet, he had an eight-member rescue team of skilled wizards coming to make sure he was safe. Where was the rescue team for her parents, who had no chance against Voldemort or his Death Eaters?

Ron was beside her, looking just as scared as she was. He was one who wore his heart on his sleeve, and Hermione loved that about him. He caught her worried glance, and awkwardly squeezed her hand. Normally, Hermione would feel a flurry of butterflies in the pit of her stomach, but not even Ron's unusual display of affection could quell the awful feeling of dread. She knew her parent's safety was not even a priority for the Order right now, but Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of anger towards them. Dumbledore had assured her family that everyone would be well taken care of when he had showed up at her door early into the summer to take Hermione to Headquarters. Her parents had seemed so dismayed that their beloved daughter would once again be spending the summer away from them, and Hermione felt so guilty. One couldn't argue with Dumbledore when he pointed out that Hermione, as Harry's best friend, was a walking target.

"Do not worry," he had said in that calming, baritone voice of his, "Miss Granger will have the highest forms of protection wizards can offer. Moreover, you two as well, will be watched out for. I promise it."

She couldn't stand to be in the stifling kitchen any longer. She hurried upstairs to the fourth floor, towards the room she and Ginny shared. She hoped to God the rescue team would be back soon with Harry, especially because she wanted to raise the issue with Dumbledore about her parents. If the Inferi were multiplying as fast as he had said, they needed to be taken to a safe house and quick. As she made her way down the hallway, a gold plaque caught her eye. She stood there a moment, debating whether or not she should bother such a rash man with her troubles. He might even take her misfortune as an excuse to take vigilante action, which she hardly condoned. Sometimes though, desperate times called for desperate measures.

She rapped softly on the black door. "Sirius?" she called timidly. She knocked again, harder this time. "Sirius? It's Hermione. Can I… talk to you?" Figuring he was in the drawing room, brooding again about being the odd man out, Hermione made her way downstairs. She could not believe she was seeking solace in Sirius of all people. When she had arrived at Headquarters at the beginning of July, Sirius had been extremely friendly towards her (thanking her profusely for helping Harry with those tricky spells for the Triwizard Tournament). However, he grew cold quickly, realizing she sided with Dumbledore on the issue of keeping him in the house. Yes, Sirius did have a notorious habit of lashing out at others for some perceived slight, even if that person was a 15 year old girl.

Still, Sirius got results. After he had stormed upstairs, some of the Order suggested, albeit rather tentatively, that Sirius should be given a more active role in the Order, especially concerning Harry. Dumbledore seemed to acquiesce, promising to talk to him after they rescued Harry. Perhaps, if she had Sirius on her side, Dumbledore would rescue her parents as well. It was worth a shot.

Yet, as she reached the drawing room door, she knew immediately something was off. She couldn't hear the rustle and soft snorts of Buckbeak. When she looked inside, her suspicions were confirmed. The bay window was swung wide open; the leather harnesses usually keeping Buckbeak from tearing through the house lay useless on the floor. Hermione gaped at the open window, her pity towards Sirius being replaced with outrage at his rashness.

"Mrs. Weasley! Sirius is gone!"

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

His head was throbbing when Harry finally came back to the world of consciousness. He felt as though someone had cut open his head and shoved dozens of rocks inside before stitching it back up again. He groaned loudly, attempting to open his eyes, only to snap them shut again as stars danced before them. He attempted to move his right arm, crying out as white-hot pain shot through his limb, exploding in his shoulder in what felt like thousands of bombs being dropped on him. He had felt that sensation all too many times on the Quidditch field. His arm was broken.

Thankfully, his left arm had been spared, and he used it to roll himself over on his back, albeit rather painfully as it felt like he had cracked at least three of his ribs. He laid there, his lungs struggling for cool air after his nasal passages had been shoved in the dirt for however long he had been out. He raised his left hand to his face, realizing angrily that his glasses were not on them. God, what had happened?

It all came rushing back. Uncle Vernon covered in blood, attacking him and his aunt. The horrific car ride as people gone mad tried to jump on the vehicle. Dudley tearing away flesh from Petunia's neck. Petunia dying in his lap…

Harry felt a prickling sensation in his eyes, and he squeezed his lids tightly to force the liquid back into his skull, but hot tears managed to slip out anyway, trickling down his temple and pooling in his ear canal. Petunia had always treated him like a stubborn stain in her carpet, something she needed to rid of to keep up her social status. Yet, in the last moments of her life, she had apologized; she had risked her life to make sure he was alright. Now he was completely alone. No Dumbledore. No Ron and Hermione. No Sirius. Nobody.

It was no use laying here on the ground crying over his relatives. Voldemort was obviously on the move, and this army of infected people were ruthless. Perhaps they were under the Imperius Curse. That would be Voldemort's sick idea of fun; control thousands of Muggles and set them loose on England, and watch other Muggles go mad with fear. He didn't know if it was possible to cast that curse on so many people. And that didn't make much sense. Petunia had turned into one of them as soon as Dudley bit her. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd swear it was like…

The snap of a twig interrupted his thoughts. He held his breath as he heard shuffling footsteps approach him. Oh shit, what if it was one of those people? His heart plummeted as he heard the distinctive wheezy growl. No glasses and he couldn't feel his wand in his pocket either. He was completely defenseless. The person could kill him easily. Maybe if he just stayed still, pretending to be dead, the person would pass him over. He continued to hold his breath, his lungs screaming at him to take in a gulp of air.

No such luck. The person continued to come closer, until Harry could feel the edge of their trainers jabbing into his cracked ribs. He bit back a yelp of pain. The person crouched closer to him, his snarling growl blowing horrible breath right into Harry's face. His muscles tensed; if the person wouldn't leave him alone, Harry would just have to try and attack as best he could. He tried to ignore the fact that having no glasses and a broken arm severely stacked the odds against him winning. He grits his teeth; he would take the person by surprise, beat him until he was down, and then make a run for it. He began to mentally count down, prepping himself for what seemed like an inevitable death.

3…2…

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Another plume of smoke burst into the sky, sending Sirius and Buckbeak vaulting to the left to avoid another face full of ash. The closer they reached Surrey, the worse the smoke got. Sirius had been flying high into the clouds to avoid being seen by Muggles, so he had no idea where all the fire was coming from, and he really didn't want to find out. Soon however, he would have to dip down to begin searching for Harry.

He had decided against going to Privet Drive. The rescue team was there, and Sirius knew Remus would throttle him if he burst in on their mission. Remus was already going to strangle him when he made it back to Headquarters. After about 20 minutes of flying, when Sirius began to calm down, he realized this was not one of his smarter ideas. Dumbledore was right; what if the Ministry did catch him? Still, he couldn't help but enjoy feeling the cold wind whip around him as he sped through the air. It had been too long since he had felt the sun's rays warm his skin.

He pulled gently on Buckbeak's neck to begin a steep descent. As the foggy clouds cleared and the streets came into view, Sirius let out a yell at the sight that greeted him.

The sheer magnitude of the destruction floored him. He had never seen anything like it in his life. Even in Voldemort's heyday, the Muggle world had never been so…obliterated. There were fires everywhere, mainly from gas tanks exploding from overturned cars. Rubbish littered the streets; Sirius could see several windows had been smashed. He could hear the screeching of hundreds of car alarms, the wailing of Muggle emergency vehicles, and blood everywhere. But what disturbed Sirius the most were the Inferi. There were thousands, _thousands!_ Many were simply milling around; they seemed to have no direction or purpose. But then there were others that were running. From his altitude Sirius couldn't quite make out what exactly was happening, but if the screams that wafted up to him were any indication, they were running after Muggles. Sirius felt his stomach churn as he thought of Harry.

'He's a tough kid,' he tried to assuage himself. 'He can handle this.' But he could not help but feel an aching worry over his godson. Had Harry ever even seen Inferi before? Did he know that only fire and blinding light could halt them? He dug his knees into Buckbeak as hard as he could, urging the hippogriff to speed up. Buckbeak snapped his beak back at Sirius to get him to stop but Sirius ignored him. He tried to ignore the fact that he had no idea where to even begin looking for Harry. He simply pressed on, dipping lower still until Buckbeak's talons were nearly grazing the rooftops of passing houses.

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE!" Sirius whipped around to see a rather large woman being surrounded by Inferi. But they didn't look like the Inferi Sirius had seen. No, they looked like ordinary people, coated in blood. Except, and Sirius swallowed, some were visibly incomplete. One man was missing an arm. What in the fuck was going on here?

Reacting on pure instinct, he landed Buckbeak on the roof of a house and was on the soft grass as Padfoot in seconds. He leapt in front of the woman, snarling and snapping at the Inferi. They merely growled back; baring their teeth in an animal-like fashion. Now that he was on the ground, Sirius could see these were unlike any Inferi he had seen. They had pale, dilated eyes, and their lips had human insides dripping from them. The man without an arm jumped at the woman, and in a flash, Sirius pounced. They tumbled to the ground, the man's face scraping against the pavement. The man was uttering an unearthly sound; he was writhing under Sirius' weight, trying desperately to clamp down on his neck, though with only one arm it was hard to dislodge Padfoot's paw pressing on his shoulder.

Suddenly, he heard the ghastly sound of flesh being ripped from the bones. The woman was screeching as the remaining Inferi or whatever the hell they were had taken Sirius's fight with the one-armed man as an opportunity to attack. Not caring if the Ministry or any Muggles saw a convicted criminal, he changed back to his human form, whipped out his wand, and tried the only spell he knew against Inferi: "INCENDIO!"

The wall of flame erupting from his wand managed to hit three of the Inferi. Before he could see if his spell worked, the man he had been struggling with leapt on his back, sending them both back to the ground. Sirius's wand clattered five feet away, completely useless. The man continued to go for his neck, shrieking and hissing as though he were possessed. Sirius punched every inch of the man's body, trying to knock the wind out of him by karate-chopping his throat. But nothing seemed to slow him down. He was strong, impossibly strong for a thin man with little muscle mass. The woman had stopped screaming now, only the squelching of insides being ripped apart could be heard, and Sirius knew it was too late.

He used both his hands to pry the snapping lips open, until he heard the loud crack of the jaw breaking. The man howled with rage, twisting his frame backwards. Sirius wasted no time in throwing his attacker off. He army crawled towards his wand, sending scorching fire towards the fiend, who was rushing towards him.

The sheer strength of the spell managed to make the man stumble a bit, but he continued his mad dash towards Sirius. Sirius could hardly believe his eyes as he watched the flames burn away at the man's clothes, then his very skin, and the man didn't so much as let out a scream of agony. It was as though Sirius hadn't attacked him at all. "Motherfucker!" Sirius breathed in disbelief, as he scrambled to his feet. He jogged backwards, firing every spell that popped into his mind in an effort to halt the grisly man. But nothing seemed to work. Sectumsempra, Stupefy, even Crucio; every jinx, hex and curse only slowed the man down. Even when one particularly foul hex Sirius sent his way blasted a hole in the man's abdomen, he still kept running.

"Fuck this!" Sirius shouted. He whistled for his companion, who flew down by his side in seconds. Sirius vaulted onto Buckbeak's back who immediately took off, his talons gouging the man's face as the pair ascended. Sirius's lungs were on fire from the prolonged fight, and his back would surely begin to spasm as soon as the adrenaline receded. Right now, he tried to process what he had just witnessed. These were not Inferi, of that he was sure. Fire would have sent the Inferi running in the opposite direction. The fact that they had blood and human tissue around their mouth was something entirely foreign to the hardened wizard. Had Voldemort bewitched Muggles to become cannibals? And the strength of them! Sirius may have been slightly malnourished from his time on the run, but he was no weakling. The man should have been unconscious from Sirius's blows to the neck, especially considering he had one arm and looked to be only 100 pounds. Sirius was at a complete loss of what was happening.

But he did know one thing: He had to find Harry. Fast.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

At Number 4 Privet Drive, the rescue team had dwindled from eight to three. Dumbledore had sent Bill and Arthur to the Burrow, to keep an eye out in case Harry somehow managed to find his way there. "Make sure to keep a close watch," he had instructed sternly, "Harry may be wounded and unable to move much." Father and son had Disapparated immediately, both frightened at the bleak turn the mission had suddenly taken. Severus was dispatched to Hermione Granger's house to see if Harry had fled there, and to rescue her parents if need be. Remus was headed back to Grimmauld Place. He had protested with Sirius's words ringing in his ears; his overwhelming concern for Harry trumping his obedience to Dumbledore. He now knew how Sirius felt.

Dumbledore would not budge. "When Sirius becomes aware of the fact that Harry is missing, he will lose all sense of logic and take matters into his own hands. He will need you to prevent him from unnecessarily risking his life." Remus could hardly argue the fact and he dreaded seeing the fury on Sirius's face when Remus showed up empty-handed. Still, he knew the severity of the situation when Severus didn't make a single snide remark about Sirius abandoning logic.

Kingsley was to go the Ministry to alert Fudge about the situation and to instruct him to send reinforcements to the British army. Only Tonks and Mad-Eye remained to help the Headmaster. Tonks was astounded it was she and not Severus who remained behind, but Dumbledore had praised her will-timed Blasting Curse. The trio now stood in Harry's closet of a bedroom, scouring every inch for any clues to his whereabouts. All three knew it was pointless; there was blood smeared against the walls and looking outside they could see the bed of roses had been trampled.

"Any idea where else he could have gone?" Mad-Eye growled, closing Harry's closet. "What about that old bat Figg?" Dumbledore's face was as hard as stone.

"She did not answer my summons to Headquarters this morning."

"What about Diagon Alley?" Tonks suggested. "It isn't that far from here, maybe they drove to the Leaky Cauldron."

"I have considered that and believe it is our next course of action if we cannot find him in the immediate surrounding area. I have hope that he, Petunia, and Dudley escaped to safety, especially if they are travelling by car."

"But what the hell are those things, Dumbledore? I've never seen Voldemort do this before." Dumbledore didn't answer right away; he continued to peer at the rosebush below. Tonks wondered if she should say what she had been thinking all along. As soon as she had seen Vernon, she knew right away these were not Inferi. In fact, they looked eerily familiar, though she hadn't thought it possible. Memories of her father filled her mind; she and her father snuggled under a blanket on a cool summer's night, watching the television as Ted ran commentary on his favourite movies. Tonks had loved them too; in fact they had prepared her for fighting real Inferi. That's how she knew to aim directly at the brain, though she was gobsmacked that the movies' rules proved accurate.

It was worth a shot. "Albus," she began, tugging on her now brown hair. "I think I know what they are. In fact, I'm almost sure of it." Dumbledore turned to her with rapt attention. But whatever Tonks knew, she could not say, as the shattering of glass downstairs drew their attention away from the subject.

"Damn!" Mad-Eye muttered. They flew downstairs only to be greeted by a young teenage girl, clearly like Vernon, crawling through the window. They would not repeat their earlier mistake; all three fired powerful Blasting Curses at the girl who did not stand a chance. Her head vaporized, the rest of her corpse slumped halfway through the window. Tonks and Mad-Eye quickly shoved her back outside, but not before seeing dozens of others careening towards the house.

"The door! Block the entrance!" Dumbledore commanded. Tonks hurried for it, conjuring up a heavy oak blockade just as three smashed into it. They continued to pound madly to no avail. Mad-Eye quickly repaired the window, reinforcing it so that not even a nuclear bomb could shatter it. The three reconvened in the living room, watching helplessly as waves of people like Vernon came towards the house, all bearing their teeth and decorated with various fatal wounds. They went wild, seeing three living people in the house, pressing up against the glass, smearing bright blood and saliva across the panes.

"So much for searching the immediate surroundings," Mad-Eye snarled.

"There's too many of them to take on," Tonks replied grimly. "I'm sure Harry's escaped though; he would have come out hearing our voices." Dumbledore took a deep, shuddering breath. For a brief second, he looked entirely vulnerable, his blue eyes looking almost child-like with fear. It passed just as quickly as Tonks had seen it, and Dumbledore conjured up his beautiful phoenix patronus.

"Privet Drive is surrounded. Harry and his family are nowhere to be found. Searching the Leaky Cauldron. Update us if you hear anything." The phoenix sailed through the unbreakable glass, unnoticed by the mad humans.

"To the Leaky Cauldron, then?" Tonks asked.

"Yes. While we are there, take care to inform anyone you come into contact with about what is happening here. I'm positive, just by looking at the sheer number that this has spread to London, possibly to the entire country. Warn them to not venture out, keep to wizarding areas. Now hopefully, the Muggle-repellent spells will keep these…people away."

"And if they don't?" Mad-Eye interrupted. His magical blue eye was still for once, trained on the window now half- obstructed by the crowd.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it. But there is no reason why the spells…"

Suddenly, they heard another smash of glass; the things had found the back entrance. They could hear the hisses as the things struggled to crawl inside, as too many of them had rushed the new opening. Tonks aimed her wand at the corner, ready to blow the heads off of whoever dared to attack.


	6. The Dreaded Z Word

**A/N:** Thanks once again to all my awesome reviewers and people who continue to subscribe to this story; you all make my day and are why I'm so glad I decided to continue this story! Oh and a BIG shout-out to my fabulous beta randomchick16 who has made this story as great as it is. So if you're enjoying these new chapters be sure to give her some applause!

Also, I couldn't help but have a cameo of someone from a well-known zombie series. See if you can guess! (Though I state their name explicitly, see if you can tell me what franchise they're from!)

Chapter Six: The Dreaded "Z" Word

A man in a pinstripe suit was the first to come rushing around the corner, making a beeline for Tonks, who quickly dealt with him, not even flinching as his blood spattered across her pale face. Beside her, Dumbledore and Alastor were dealing their own deadly blows to the stream of people who had found their way into the house.

"We have to Disapparate!" Tonks screeched over the hum of growls filling the room. Her words fell on deaf ears; her comrades were too occupied with their own survival. Tonks aimed a Reducto Curse at someone wrestling with Dumbledore and was pleased to see the gaping hole in the man's skull as he dropped useless to the floor. She whirled around to aim another curse at a firefighter's head who was hastily limping towards her. Tonks flattened herself against the wall to avoid him as he fell. To her dismay, the torrent of people had only increased. They couldn't stay here a moment longer, or they would face certain death.

"WE HAVE TO DISAPPARATE!" she screamed again. Dumbledore only glanced her way as he slashed the heads off three triplets.

"ARGHHHHHH!" Tonks eyes grew like saucers at what she was witnessing. A young boy, no more than five, was chomping on her mentor's arm. Mad-Eye had obviously been hesitant to kill such a young lad, and he had paid the price. Tonks lost all sense of herself, any rational thought or logic as she rushed towards the young kid. Ignoring the fact that she was a witch, she picked him up by the scruff of his moss green jumper and began pounding his face into the carpet, roaring cuss words at him. She continued to bash his head, not caring that she had successfully killed him, not caring that he was nothing more than a bloody pulp, not caring that she had left Dumbledore and Mad-Eye to fight off the hordes themselves. She continued to channel her rage at the boy until strong arms wrenched her hands away from him, and gripped her close to Disapparate.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

3…2…

BANG.

Harry howled as the man landed hard across his torso, right smack onto his cracked ribs. He furiously tried to push him off, but his left arm was no match for the man's dead weight. He heard soft footsteps beside him and he struggled harder, desperately trying to find a way to wiggle out from the crushing weight.

"Hold on, kid," a hoarse voice commanded. Harry remained still as he felt the man be dragged off him. Harry tried to sit up, only to flop back down with a moan. "Easy there, looks like you had a pretty nasty spill." Harry slowly opened his eyes and saw a young woman perched beside him, dressed in a blue top and black skirt. She helped ease him into a sitting position, supporting his back as he raised himself.

"Who are you?" he murmured, trying to quell the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him.

"Valentine, Jill Valentine," she stated, as she reloaded her silver handgun. "I'm part of a special unit of the police force, not that that means much anymore." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to not vomit all over his rescuer. The overwhelming scent of iron filled his nostrils; he squinted at his hands to see they were red.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Bottom of a ravine. I just happened to be looking for a running car, when I saw the crash. You're lucky you didn't break your neck."

"Yeah, but I did break my arm," Harry muttered darkly. She ignored this, continuing to gaze around for any aggressors. "I have to get back up to the car, my wa- my glasses are up there." She looked at him incredulously.

"That's suicide." Harry felt hot anger bubble up, though he didn't know why.

"I don't care! I can't walk around blind forever!" Jill was close enough that Harry could see that she was glaring at him, which made him even angrier.

"And what makes you think I'm going to help you?" Harry was now trying to struggle to his feet; luckily neither of his legs was broken. Jill huffed and grabbed onto his hand, hoisting him upwards and catching him as he stumbled a bit when his head seared with pain.

"I… didn't…ask for your…help," Harry panted. His legs felt like jelly, and his chest continued to throb painfully. He clapped his hand to his forehead as another roll of sickness rocked his body. He squinted at the hill he had plummeted down. He could faintly make out some rather jagged rocks that he had thankfully missed. It was quite steep. He would probably need Jill's help to get back up there, though after snapping at her he didn't relish the fact.

"You're lucky I have a conscience," she growled. They began the slow ascent. Jill had a death grip on her gun, and one arm around Harry's shoulders, making sure he didn't take another tumble. Harry tried to push away the pain that was overloading his senses. His right arm hung limply at his side; it felt like it weighed a ton. He had considered asking Jill to make a sling, but the intensity with which she looked around made him stop. She was obviously eager to get this over with.

When they were about five feet away from the guard rail Jill stopped him. Pushing him downwards, she crept up on her hands and knees, peering under the guard rail. Harry could hear her whisper a swear. She slid noiselessly back down beside him, her eyes narrowed into slits.

"They're fucking _everywhere_," she hissed. She glared at him again, as though the whole thing were his fault.

"I need my glasses," he argued firmly. "Unless you know of a spectacle shop open in a time of crisis?" She had no retort and he carried on. "I'll only be three seconds, and then we can go." She snorted.

"All they need is three seconds to kill you. You won't last."

"I won't last without them," Harry repeated. "Are you going to help me or what?" Jill muttered something he couldn't catch, but she army crawled back up to the guard rail, Harry not far behind her. He peered under, seeing the flipped over sedan he had been driving. He winced just looking at it, though he was thankful the gas tank hadn't exploded like all the other cars around.

"I see them, they're cracked though. I warn you, kid, if those things get you, I'm not stickin' around to pull them off. So be quick." Harry followed her finger to the driver's side window. He couldn't quite make his glasses out, but he was sure he could be fast enough to grab them, his wand, and be out of there in no time.

Steeling himself, he clambered over the guard rail, keeping to the ground as he shimmied his way to the door. Jill's gunshots filled the air as did agitated growls. Harry allowed himself to feel relieved as his glasses and his wand were near each other. He shoved them back onto his face. Though they were cracked, he was glad he could now see.

Jill was practically spinning in one place, so fast were her attacks on the various people. Harry could now see she was loaded up with various weaponry and ammunition, and he thanked his lucky stars that it was she who had found him.

"Jill, come on, let's go!" She whipped around and aimed her gun at him. Harry instinctively ducked. A large construction worker flopped to the ground beside him. Harry couldn't help but grin, seeing Jill kick some serious ass. Jill caught his expression and grinned back.

"JILL!" Harry screamed. He tried to cast one of the few jinxes he knew at the thing but his left hand felt awkward; his jet of orange light flew right into the sky, nowhere near the monster. Jill's eyes grew wide as she watched the light sail over her head. Harry had no time to feel horrified at revealing his magic to a Muggle. He tried again, this time the light hit another woman.

Harry's misfire's cost him. The thing took advantage of Jill's shock, clamping down on her neck just like Dudley had. She screamed, the sound cutting right through Harry's soul. Harry was vaguely aware he was bellowing right along with her. She struck the butt of her gun off the person's head in vain. Harry used the car as support to get to his feet, still attempting to fire any curses he could think of at the person, even if they weren't duelling spells.

"RUN!" she managed to roar at him, but Harry wouldn't listen. He ran towards her, using his body to check anyone who stood in his way. Jill had managed to free herself but she was bleeding profusely. She fired the gun at her attacker, but not before another one had started biting on her shoulder. Jill was half sobbing as she heard the hollow click of her now empty gun.

Harry ripped the woman off her, this time not bothering with magic and punching her right in the nose. He was still yelling as he grabbed her mangled arm, not caring that they were almost completely surrounded by the things. Another, with no legs that was dragging itself on the pavement, ripped the tendons out of Jill's calf. Harry gave the bastard a swift kick to the head. He wished desperately he knew a spell that would act like a bomb to take the fuckers out.

Jill was wailing, gripping onto the hole in her neck. Harry tried fruitlessly to pull her with him. The things were coming closer still; their lips were curled back, ready to launch onto their latest prey. He grabbed her spare gun that was strapped to her other leg and begin firing at random. But they weren't stopping like they had when Jill took them out. He would even fire directly at their hearts and they would _still keep moving!_

Blood was pouring out of Jill's mouth. She had fallen onto her knees, almost in a prayer like position. Harry could hear the awful gurgling sounds issuing from her like they had Petunia. He managed to take one out by blasting it right between the eyes. But his triumph was short-lived. The sudden cold clicking sound mocked him. He threw the gun down with a scream of agony. Beside him, Jill fell dead on the ground.

Harry would waste no more time here. He used _Reducto_, the closest thing to a bomb-like spell he had to create a small opening in the wall of things surrounding him. He took no notice of the body parts that rained around him as he pushed his way through, breaking out into a run as soon as he got past the crowd. To his horror, some were running right after him, not wanting their meal to get away. Harry continued his sprint, growing more panicked as he watched more and more join the pursuit. He would sometimes fire spells behind him, but his shoddy aim would never do any good, only taking out a few by sheer chance. His right arm flapped wildly at his side, it felt like it would fall off any second.

When it seemed like he could run no more, and Harry was considering fighting until he was dead, he came across a van still upright, its blinkers on, and door hanging open. He threw himself inside; the door slamming shut just as several things crashed into it. He slammed on the gas pedal; taking care not hit anymore telephone poles. The things continued to chase after him as he peeled out, even when he had hit 80 km/h. He watched them become ant-like in his rear view mirror, his wand still gripped in his left hand.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

The Ministry was in a state of pure panic when Kingsley arrived in the Atrium. The atmosphere was frenzied; people were running all over the place, papers clutched to their chest, bumping into each other and not stopping to apologize. Clearly, news of the situation in the Muggle world had reached the Ministry.

Kingsley strode past them all, not wanting to be interrupted on his quest to see the Minister. In the lift, he caught site of the headline of the day's _Daily Prophet_ that was crumpled on the ground.

**INFERI OVERTAKE MUGGLE WORLD!**

When Kingsley reached Fudge's office, he could see two Aurors guarding it. They both raised their wands seeing him approach.

"I need to the see the Minister," Kingsley ordered.

"The Minister is not seeing anyone at the moment," one of them snarled, her brown eyes blazing at him.

"I have important orders from Albus Dumbledore!" She took a step forward, her wand inches from Kingsley's eyes.

"I have orders to use force if necessary if a belligerent will not leave," she threatened. The door opened a crack, and the eyes of Cornelius Fudge peered out.

"Minister, if you please, I have important orders from Albus Dumbledore. It is essential that I see you!" Both Aurors now had their wands trained on Kingsley, who continued to stare at the Minister. Fudge hesitantly stepped out. His bowler hat was askew and his suit noticeably rumpled.

"Yes, yes, Dumbledore will know what to do. Rose, let him through." Rose reluctantly lowered her wand, hatred still burning in her eyes. Kingsley breezed past her into the office, locking the door behind him. Fudge was pale and sweaty, and his hands visibly shook as he poured himself a large goblet of Firewhisky.

"Minister, Dumbledore believes that we should send reinforcements to the British army. Have you spoken to the Muggle Prime Minister yet?" Fudge shook his head, downing the drink in one gulp and pouring himself another. "Then we must go immediately, the situation grows direr with each passing second. His troops will need our highly trained Aurors to help combat the spread."

"What is it, Kingsley?" Fudge whispered. "Is it really You-Know-Who?" Kingsley sighed. At any other time, he would have been overjoyed to hear Fudge accept the reality of Voldemort's return. But seeing Fudge looking so child-like only made Kingsley grow cold as he realized the cowardice of Fudge would harm them more than help.

"That is what Dumbledore thinks; he has obviously found a new way to bewitch the dead. They are not Inferi, Minister; of that much he is certain." Fudge whimpered. "Cornelius," Kingsley's tone was soft as he prevented the Minister from taking another swallow. "Both the Magical and Muggle worlds need you right now. It will do them no good if you are inebriated." Fudge didn't reply, but he allowed Kingsley to pry the goblet from his hands and escort him over to the stone hearth.

"Do not worry, Minister. Whatever these things are, the Magical world appears to be shielded. Unless, there are reports of attacks in our world?" Fudge gulped loudly but shook his head. "Then, to the Muggle Prime Minister's office." The flames transformed into a brilliant green, whisking the pair away to the chaos that was the Muggle Prime Minister's office.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Harry was resting on the hood of the van. He had driven until the fuel tank began beeping at him, signalling that it was almost empty. He had steered the van into a secluded area of forest, and had managed to reach a clearing. It had been an hour, and he was counting his blessings that he had not seen a single one of the things yet. Now that he had stopped running for his life, he felt so weary. What he wouldn't give to curl up in the van and sleep the whole thing away. But it was like Jill had told him earlier: that was suicide, though Harry was reaching the point where that didn't seem so horrible.

He was trying to block out the painful memories. It was funny; it was only noon. A mere four hours ago he had been sleeping in his bed, his Charms textbook tucked in beside him after another late night of sneaking his homework. How was it that everything he ever knew had suddenly been cast aside and rearranged in such a short amount of time? He thought mournfully of his things back at Privet Drive. His Firebolt, invisibility cloak, Hedwig, all the letters he had ever received from his friends and godfather, all his school books and trinkets he had collected over the years, stored neatly under the loose floorboard. And Harry would never touch them again.

His thoughts turned to his friends. He felt a crushing sense of guilt for being so angry towards them. He had been so petty. Were they okay? Or were they too wandering about with cold, unseeing eyes, ready to attack anyone, even him. Harry shivered, though it was a perfectly warm afternoon. He didn't think he would have the strength to kill his friends if that ever happened.

Harry hadn't ever been in a worse situation. Even when he was duelling Voldemort in June, at least magic had worked against him. But here, his wand might as well have been a rubber chicken for all the good it did. And there sure as hell wasn't a Portkey around that could whisk him back to Hogwarts. He had no transportation, no idea where the hell he even was, nothing but his broken glasses, and a van that would no longer drive. Not to mention an arm that was so painful it caused Harry to slip in and out of consciousness. Yes, he was definitely screwed.

"Look on the bright side," he told himself darkly, "at least you're in the shade." His hands still had shards of small glass in them, which Harry had tried to unsuccessfully pick out, causing them to bleed even more. He had caught sight of himself in the side mirror. Yes, he certainly did look like he had bathed in blood.

The sky abruptly darkened, and Harry looked up to see what looked like a massive bird obstructing the light. Wait, was that…no, it couldn't be! Harry hastily sent up the same red sparks that he had been taught to use in the maze, hoping, praying that he would be seen. The bird kept flying on, however. Harry hollered loudly, even though his voice was hoarse and scratchy from all the screaming he had done today. "DOWN HERE! I'M DOWN HERE! MAN ALIVE! MAN. ALIVE." He watched with a sinking heart as the bird flew away. Harry continued shouting, even when the bird was gone from his view. He smashed his good hand on the hood of the vehicle, chiding himself for being stupid enough to think it was anything other than a large hawk. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that his scene probably attracted more of the things. But he cared not. He wanted to die. It would be better than standing here, without a clue of how to get himself out of this mess.

"HARRY!" Harry's head shot up, utter amazement at seeing a tall man with long hair dismounting a hippogriff and dashing towards him. Relief flooded through his body, warming every bone. Harry stumbled towards him, his legs not seeming to work properly. The man had reached him before Harry had taken even five steps and swept him into a bone-crushing embrace. Harry yelped with pain as his fractured ribs protested.

"Sirius…how…how…"

"GOD! What happened to you? You're covered in blood!" Harry was trembling hard, and he was glad that Sirius was still supporting him. He felt a lump rise in his throat, so happy to see a familiar face in front of him. Sirius was alright. He was alive. Sirius noticed how viciously Harry was shaking and he helped him over to the driver's seat of the van.

"Look at you! Look at you!" Sirius was shouting, and Harry tried in vain to shush him. "Did they get you, Harry? Are you hurt?"

"Shhhh, Sirius! They'll hear you!" Sirius paid him no attention; he was slack-jawed with horror at the extent of Harry's injuries.

"Look at your arm! It's practically black and blue! Did they attack you? Did they attack you?"

"My arm's broken, but please, Sirius, you have to be quiet! Please!" Sirius kneaded his knuckles into his eyes, but when he spoke again, Harry was relieved to hear his voice had lowered.

"My God, Harry, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner." Harry leaned heavily into the cushioned chair, a silly smile breaking out across his face at his sudden good luck. Sirius had found him; everything was going to be okay now. Sirius looked alarmed at Harry's sappy grin. "Why are you smiling?"

"You found me." Harry eyelids began to droop, exhaustion hitting him like a ton of bricks. The momentary adrenaline he felt when he saw Sirius had quickly exited. The searing pain from his arm and ribs came rushing back and Harry moaned.

"Is anything else broken?" Sirius was gently feeling along his body for any breaks. Harry let out a hiss as Sirius's fingers grazed his chest.

"I think my ribs are fractured."

"Damn," Sirius breathed, "Moony was always better at the healing spells than I. Here…" Harry felt a cold sensation creep up his arm and over his chest, engulfing him in a wonderful bliss of nothingness. "Numbing Charm," Sirius explained. "I'm rubbish when it comes to mending bones; I'll probably leave you worse off than you already are. But I can take the pain away." Harry nodded his gratitude. Sirius's hands were on his head now, and he swore when he found a deep gash on Harry's temple.

"What the hell happened to you, kid?" Harry groaned. He was trying desperately to push away the memories and the last thing he wanted to do was relive them. Sirius tapped his wand against his head and Harry felt as though it had been bathed in hot water. He raised his hand to the wound; Sirius had charmed the bleeding to stop.

"It's a long story." Sirius made a clucking sound with his tongue and shook his head.

"We need to get you back to Headquarters, Remus will fix you up." But Harry was in no mood to travel. All he wanted to do was sleep the whole thing away and wake up back in his tiny room in Privet Drive. He buried his face further into the cushion, utter exhaustion about to overtake him. "Oh no…" Harry forced his eyes open again. Sirius's face was in his palm. "I'm not the Secret Keeper. Dumbledore… oh he'll be furious…but we have to…damnit!"

Harry was far too tired to even try and make sense out of Sirius's garbled speech. His godfather stood up, and Harry watched with astonishment as he conjured up a patronus that was an exact replica of his Animagus form. Sirius began to speak to it: "I've got Harry, we're both okay. We need to get to Headquarters. Dumbledore, you know what to do. We're about 20 km away from Surrey, in a small forest." Then, with a flick of his wand, the silvery dog turned on its heel and ran into the depths of the trees.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked. He was rapidly falling into the world of sleep, so fatigued was every fibre of his being.

"We wait. You look like you're about to drop dead, Harry." He was only half-joking; his grey eyes betrayed his concern. Harry gave him a lopsided grin.

"That obvious, huh?" Sirius opened the side door of the van, and half carried Harry into it. Harry felt an irrational panic seize him as he saw Sirius begin to walk away.

"Don't leave!" Sirius turned back, looking perplexed.

"I'm not. Just getting my pack from Buckbeak, we might be here awhile. Lay back down." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was okay to sleep, Sirius would protect him. He was safe. Sirius was still staring at him, concern colouring his gaunt features.

"You'll stay here with me, right?" Harry knew he would, but he wanted to hear it aloud, just too really make sure he hadn't gone crazy with hallucinations. Sirius chuckled, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Can't get rid of me that easy kiddo."

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

A loud clatter broke the thick tension in the room and Remus looked up to be greeted by Tonks, Dumbledore, and Mad-Eye tumbling through the kitchen door. Mad-Eye had a vice like grip on his arm, and Tonks looked half-insane as she yanked a chair forward and pushed Mad-Eye down on it.

"What happened? I thought you were going to the Leaky Cauldron?" Molly asked, as she came hurrying over to the table.

"Alastor has been attacked, bitten by one of them," Dumbledore replied grimly. Remus was astonished at the ghastly bite. It was deep, so deep that he could even see the pearly white of a bone. There were some muscles that were hanging out of the wound; the whole thing looked as though someone had taken a serrated knife to his arm and began hacking away.

"I'll be fine," Mad-Eye growled, but his scarred face was drained of color. Dumbledore began tapping his wand against the wound, his brow growing more furrowed as nothing happened.

"I don't understand," he murmured softly. He tried again; the wound glowed a brilliant blue, but still remained, as blood soaked as ever. "Is Severus back yet?" Remus shook his head. Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Then the best we can do is fashion a tourniquet." Tonks had already ripped off a large chunk of her deep purple robes and was hastily tying it.

"Watch it, Nymphadora! You're going to snap off my arm!" Mad-Eye winced when Tonks pulled it particularly tight. Tonks said nothing. Remus had never seen her in such a state before. Her dark eyes were wild, though it didn't help that there was blood smeared across her cheeks.

"Remus, please call Sirius down to the kitchen. Once Severus and Kingsley are back we will need to call a meeting to discuss what is happening." Remus shifted, looking uncomfortable.

"Albus…Sirius is, errr, well he's gone." Dumbledore closed his eyes and leaned his head backwards.

"I can't say I'm surprised," Dumbledore said when he had opened his eyes. "He's taken Buckbeak with him, I assume?" Remus nodded. "Well, let us hope then that he will have more luck than we in finding Harry." Remus stepped forward and lowered his voice so that only Dumbledore could hear. Ever since he had found out Sirius had gone on his own one-man rescue mission, one thought had plagued his mind.

"Sir, what if he's seen? What if the Ministry catches him?" Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder, a small smile managing to grace his lips.

"Remus, my friend, I think Sirius may have been right. The Ministry, nor will the Muggle police, care if he's out in the open. Besides," Dumbledore was now speaking to the entire kitchen. "If memory serves correctly, Sirius was the best tracker in the Auror department in his day."

"Yeah, if he can escape Azkaban and find his way to Hogwarts, then he can find Harry!" It was Ron who had spoken, though he looked like he was trying to convince himself more than the group. Another heavy silence descended. Remus smiled humourlessly to himself. It was almost funny how quickly the situation had turned around for his friend. Nearly two hours ago, old Padfoot had felt as though he was the least important member in the group, and frankly, he was. Now, the entire Order was counting on him to find Harry. If it had been any other situation, Sirius would be gloating to no end.

Tonks was still fussing over Mad-Eye, who was trying to push her away. She would not move, her hands had found a cloth and she was furiously scrubbing the blood off his arm.

"My dearest Tonks," Dumbledore said softly, crouching beside her. "You said you may have an idea of what is happening?" That seemed to snap Tonks out of whatever madness had temporarily gripped her. She slowly raised herself to her full height, and cleared her throat loudly.

"I know exactly what's happening," she began, her voice cracking from all the screaming she had done that day. "I never thought it possible, in fact, I always thought it was make-believe, pretend you know?" Her eyes flicked around to every face that was watching her with bated breath. She took a deep breath, then another, almost as if she were afraid to say what she knew, because that would make it real. Remus moved beside her, and gave her arm a gentle squeeze, to prompt her to continue.

"They're zombies."


	7. The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter Seven: The Calm Before the Storm

"What the fuck are 'zombies'?"

"GEORGE!" Molly admonished her son, giving him a swat on his wrist. George muttered darkly at his now bright red skin with Fred smirking beside him. Tonks didn't even crack a smile at the twins' antics.

"They're the living dead," she stated shakily. Molly cocked her head to the side.

"Like Inferi?"

"No! Not at all like Inferi!" She snapped, and Molly recoiled, as though she had been struck. Tonks pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself to calm down. "Do not get the two confused…it'll cost you your life if you do." The entire kitchen sat in a tense silence as this statement sank in. "Listen," Tonks continued, "Zombies and Inferi are similar, but they function and behave differently. Inferi are bewitched corpses; puppets if you will. Zombies have free will, they do as they please. They only function on their most basic instincts, mainly the need to eat. And for whatever reason, their choice of nourishment is living human flesh." Molly gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Remus felt his jaw drop, and saw that others had a similar expression as he did.

"Living human flesh?" Dumbledore mused aloud, looking deeply troubled. "So, they will not eat each other?" Tonks gave a dark smile.

"No. Maybe they have a little pact between them. They will go after anyone who's alive. And believe me when I say, you cannot reason with a zombie, or plead with it. It doesn't respond to human emotions. Treat them as though they are wild animals. Kill them on sight; don't fool around with fancy wand work. Be direct, precise, and efficient." The group watched Tonks with rapt attention, soaking in her every command, even Dumbledore. Despite the severity of what was happening, Remus couldn't help but feel very attracted to this take-charge Tonks. Leadership suited her very well.

"How do we kill them?" Ron asked. "Fire, right? I mean, if you destroy their body, they should just become ash and problem solved!"

"No. You destroy the brain." Everyone's head whipped around to the far right corner of the room, astounded at who had just spoken. Hermione sat there by the fire; Crookshanks was in her lap, purring heavily at her strokes. Tonks was gazing at Hermione as though she was just seeing her clearly for the first time.

"Yes, yes, always go for the brain," she said breathlessly as she sat down in front of Hermione. "But separating the head from the body will work too, just as long as the brain is shut down." Hermione was nodding rapidly as Tonks spoke.

"So they aren't like _Return of the Living Dead_ zombies? Destroying the brain will work?" With Tonks nodding as well, the pair almost looked like bobble heads.

"Yes, they aren't as invincible. But they can run like those zombies, so we have to really be careful." Hermione was chewing on her lip. "But they can't talk, thank God."

"Just moan?"

"Yeah," Remus exchanged a glance with Mad-Eye, who was looking at the two girls with utter bewilderment. Remus could only be amazed, though if he really thought about it, he shouldn't be. Hermione was always bursting with facts and information, so it shouldn't be a surprise that she would know what these zombies were.

"What's _Return of the Living Dead_?" Ginny asked, her head turning back and forth between the two. "Is it like a book?" They acted as though Ginny hadn't spoken.

"Did your Dad like them too?" Tonks asked eagerly. A hollow smile was on Hermione's face.

"No, Mum. She adored them." Tonks's smile was an exact replica of hers.

"I did too. Dad and I would always go to the theatre when a new one came out. Mum thought they were silly."

"I was scared of them, especially at how quickly they would take over…" her sentence trailed off. Tonks reached over and squeezed her hands. Hermione's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "And how, the humans…they always seemed to lose, like there was no hope for us…" Tonks squeezed her hands again, a determined look on her face.

"No, there's always hope Hermione. Those movies were social commentary on the ills of humanity; that's why they never made it. But we don't have to be like them. We can survive this. We just have to pull together." She turned to the rest of the room, as though she suddenly remembered that they were not alone. "So we have to put our differences aside." Her eyes cast around the room again, a small smile playing on her lips. "Especially Sirius and Snape."

"Good luck," Remus snorted. "They won't get along, even for Albus." Tonks smirked but it faded just as quickly as it came.

"The point is," her voice authoritative as she stood up again, "that if we even have a hope in surviving, let alone undoing this mess, we have to act as a team, and we have to remember to destroy the brain. Setting them on fire, or blasting holes in them, or trying to stun them does nothing. The two curses I've found that work are _Confringo_ and _Reducto_, but only if you aim at their head will they stop."

"You said," Molly started slowly, her face a ghostly white, "that they take over quickly. Why? How come the humans never win?" Tonks's face drained of colour, and she began to tremble, casting a horrified glance at her mentor. She and Hermione locked eyes, the latter's lower lip twitched with suppressed tears.

"They… I…" Tonks kneaded her knuckles into her eyes, a trait she had seemed to pick up from her cousin. But she was spared of whatever horrible thing she was going to reveal by the sudden appearance of a large, silvery dog.

"Sirius's Patronus!" Remus cried, thoroughly overjoyed. Sirius's deep voice began reverberating around the room.

"_I've got Harry, we're both okay. We need to get to Headquarters. Dumbledore, you know what to do. We're about 20 km away from Surrey, in a small forest." _ The dog dissipated and there was a few moments of absolute silence before the room erupted into ear-splitting cheers. The Weasley twins high fived each other, proclaiming something about Marauders always getting their man, Molly had her arms wrapped around herself, as though she was giving herself a huge hug, Ron and Hermione were beaming at each other, and Dumbledore's blue eyes looked calm once again. Remus was laughing, and he turned to Tonks, so full of euphoria at Sirius finding Harry that he drew her into a quick hug. She was obviously startled because she did not hug back, but when Remus drew away, her face was pink.

"Well, now," Dumbledore cried, a genuine smile lighting up his face for the first time in a long time, "Sirius's tracking skills come through again! Let's not keep them waiting a moment longer!" He grabbed a spare bit of parchment from deep within his navy blue robes and began writing the address of Grimmauld Place. He placed a period at the end with obvious flourish.

Remus turned again to Tonks, but she was not near him. She had crouched beside Mad-Eye, and was gazing up at him with utter devastation. Her small hand was curled around his arm, shielding the large bite mark. Mad-Eye was looking curiously at her, and he had placed a gnarled hand on her cheek. It should have been a touching scene, especially considering how hardened Mad-Eye was. But all Remus could sense was the overwhelming sadness emanating from Tonks, and he felt in his heart that the wound was far more horrifying than the others thought.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

The high afternoon sun was beating mercilessly down on the clearing and Sirius was thankful that Harry had had the sense to park in the shade. It was so wrong, this cheerful sunny day with a beautiful, cloud- free sky. This was the type of day for mischief and carefreeness, not death and destruction.

He was perched on the floor of the van, sitting cross-legged and staring hard out into the black forest for any of the cannibals. Beside him, his trusty outlaw friend was mimicking his gaze. It was amazing how attuned Buckbeak was to Sirius's emotions. His muscles tensed, and every now again he would ruffle his feathers, prepping for a hasty getaway. Sirius leaned over and gave him a well-deserved scratch.

Behind him, Harry moaned softly and Sirius knew that the Numbing Charm was slowly fading. Soon the pain would wake him up again, but that was fine. Sirius needed to make the kid a sling anyway if they had to fly all the way back to Grimmauld Place.

He cast a glance at the sleeping form. Harry looked uncomfortable; his body far too big for the cramped quarters of the van. But it didn`t seem to matter, he was out like a light. Sirius still didn`t know what happened to him, almost didn`t want to know, but it had obviously drained a good deal of energy from him. Sirius tensed as he heard a twig snap, but not hearing any moaning, he relaxed again.

"Sirius?" Harry's voice mumbled. Sirius turned to see Harry looking blearily at him, rubbing his broken arm.

"Still here," Sirius said, attempting to smile, though he was sure it looked more like a grimace. "Need another dose?" Harry nodded, letting out a large sigh of relief when his upper half went numb. "Come here, I want to make you a sling." Harry looked grateful and he awkwardly propped himself up with his left arm. "But first," Sirius said, and this time his smile wasn't forced, "I think you need a shirt." Harry looked ruefully down at his bare chest. His face became hard and his stature rigid.

"Oh, right," Sirius began fumbling around his pack for a shirt that would fit Harry, but the kid was so damn skinny that most of his clothes would sag like elephants skin.

"Sorry, I know it's a macho thing, but I'm not some pubescent girl," Sirius joked, trying to lighten the mood. Harry's face was still stoic and the smile slid right off of Sirius's face. He finally found a light blue one and tossed it to him, helping him put his right arm in the sleeve.

"Thanks." Sirius went back to his bag, wondering if he should ask Harry about his sudden change in demeanour. It was just a shirt after all, but maybe it had something to do with why he had found Harry covered in blood and gashes. Sirius sighed. He had never been good with the "talk about feelings" stuff. Especially with Harry, someone he had only known for a little over a year.

He found an old dress shirt he didn't care much for and began unceremoniously tearing it up. Harry was looking into the forest, a dark look in his eyes that Sirius didn't like to see.

"I really am glad you're okay," He said, trying to be sincere, but feeling awkward and out of his comfort zone. The cloud lifted off Harry's face slightly.

"I'm really glad you found me," Sirius folded the remaining shirt into a triangle, gently placing Harry's arm inside, though he didn't have to because the Numbing Charm was at full strength. "How did you, anyway?"

"Did you know that when I was an Auror I was the best tracker out of the whole unit?" Sirius grinned at the memory. "Must be because of my canine alter-ego." Harry looked impressed, and Sirius finished up by tying a tight knot at the nape of his neck. Resting on the back of his calves, he admired his handiwork. It was kind of shoddy, but it would do.

"How come you're the only one out here?" Harry asked again, looking slightly betrayed. "I thought the Weasley's would be worried…" Sirius looked sheepish.

"Ah, well…there was a rescue team looking for you, but Dumbledore thought it was too dangerous for me to come along to Privet Drive. Naturally I disagreed and, sort of hijacked Buckbeak and struck out on my own." Harry grinned and shook his head, but suddenly looked very worried.

"But the Ministry! And the Muggle police are looking for you too, Sirius!"

Sirius cocked an eyebrow. "After everything you've seen today do you really think they'll care that I'm out in the open?" He asked. It was Harry's turn to look abashed.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I just don't want you to get chucked back in Azkaban, you know?"

"I know. And if it had been any other situation then I'd completely agree with you, it was pretty reckless of me. But what can I say," and he was grinning now, "you're worth it." Harry ducked his head, but Sirius caught the lopsided grin he was trying to hide. Sirius turned sombre again. Much as he liked to see Harry smile, it didn't change the fact that there was something seriously fucked going on. "Anyway, the sooner we're out of here, the better." Harry nodded in agreement.

"So, you've seen them too?"

"Seen them, fought with them, nearly got myself killed," Sirius said dismissively, as if his dying was not a big deal. Harry's eyes widened anyway.

"How many did you fight?" he asked, concern tainting his voice. Sirius leaned back on his two arms, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

"Well, technically just one. But there was about five of them attacking this woman. I tried to help her, but this guy was insane. He was so strong. Barely could get him off of me."

"You're not hurt, are you?" Sirius gave his infamous bark-like laugh.

"Nahhh, I'm fine. You on the other hand," and he cast a meaningful look at his godson, "definitely have a story to fill me in on." Harry went rigid again and Sirius immediately felt uncomfortable. Perhaps now was not the time to prod Harry into sharing. From his time spent around Harry's two best friends, he found out that Harry was one to shoulder his burdens alone. So he was surprised when Harry began talking.

"The Dursleys are dead," Harry said roughly. Sirius wanted to say that they deserved it (he knew what a wench Lily's sister was) but seeing his godson's eyes look very bright, he decided to stay quiet. Harry cleared his throat loudly and continued, "Vernon, uhh... he turned into one of them and went after Petunia. We escaped together, to go find Dudley. We found him but… it was too late. And he killed her." Sirius didn't know what to say. On the one hand, he wasn't sorry at all that the Dursleys were dead. Still, being murdered by one's own son was a terrible way to go.

"I tried to save her, but I couldn't find a hospital and she was bleeding so much, it was just everywhere. I tore off my pyjama shirt to try and stop the blood but it just wouldn't stop. And," Harry paused, "she apologized."

"For what?" Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. Everything, maybe. The way she treated me, the way she treated my mum. She made sure I survived. I don't know, Sirius. I just wish… that maybe she could have somehow lived. She didn't deserve to die." He looked at Sirius, who was wearing a determinedly neutral expression. "You don't care that she's dead, do you?"

"No, Harry. The few times I met her were unpleasant at best. I can't forgive her after the way she treated Lily or you for that matter."

"She saved my life, Sirius!" Harry cried defensively.

"Yes and I'm extremely grateful for it," he replied calmly. "But does one heroic act make up for 15 years of horrid treatment?" Harry looked away, his jaw clenched.

"You didn't see her. You didn't see the look in her eyes. She really was remorseful. And I forgive her," he ended defiantly, as though daring Sirius to counter. But Sirius remained uncharacteristically calm. He didn't wish to argue the virtues of Petunia Dursley.

"Okay, you forgive her," he echoed. He nudged Harry's foot to prompt him to continue. So Harry told him everything. How Petunia had come back, how he had crashed the car, and somehow fallen down a hill. He told him about Jill, how she had helped him, and how Harry had been unable to save her. How he had run until he couldn't run anymore and suddenly his luck turned when he had found the van. Sirius said nothing throughout the speech but when Harry had finished, he had gone rigid.

"You could have died," he said in a slightly strangled voice.

"So could you," Harry pointed out. Sirius wanted to argue that Harry's life was far more valuable than his own but decided against it.

"Well, I'm just glad you've got a good head on your shoulders," Sirius said gruffly. "The others don't give you enough credit." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"The others?" Sirius's mouth twisted into a frown. Harry still didn't know what he had been up to all summer.

"Remember Dumbledore telling me to go 'alert the old crowd'? Well, it's the Order of the Phoenix, a secret group dedicated to fighting Voldemort. We've been holding several meetings at my old house, and you, of course, are a hot topic." Harry looked slightly outraged before worry once again crossed his features.

"Do you think Voldemort's behind all this?" Sirius looked over his shoulder, as though checking to see if Voldemort was there.

"I'm not sure," he began slowly. "It's definitely the sort of thing he'd do. But, I've never seen anything like this before. It's like he bewitched all the Muggles to become cannibals or something!"

"Or zombies," Harry said softly. It was Sirius's turn to raise his eyebrow.

"Zombies?" He said the word cautiously, as though it was a foreign language that he didn't want to get wrong.

"Yeah. You know, the living dead? Haven't you ever heard of them?"

"Sure, Harry, but we refer to them as Inferi not zombies, and let me tell you, these are definitely not Inferi."

"Well, what's the difference?"

"Inferi are only 'alive' because a wizard has bewitched them to be. But the Inferius is completely at the whim of the wizard who brought them back; it's almost like an Imperius curse for the dead. Besides, Inferi are terrified of fire and I tried fire on those fuckers. They just kept coming." Harry looked pensive.

"See, Muggles call the living dead zombies. Zombies just come back for…well, the stories vary each time. Sometimes it's nuclear or chemical radiation, or a government experiment gone wrong, or because," and Harry allowed himself a grim smile at the quote, "When there is no more room in Hell, the dead shall walk the earth." Sirius had no idea what Harry was on about.

"So you're saying Hell is full?" he asked skeptically.

"I don't know, Sirius, they're just stories. Or, I thought they were." They lapsed into a strained silence, each trying to process what was happening.

"These zombie things, why do they eat people?"

"Well, that's actually one of the few commonalities between all the movies. Apparently they have basic instincts, like what cavemen had. Eat, kill, and survive. Repeat. They just happen to need to eat other living humans." Sirius was extremely disturbed.

"So, what you're saying is that they've regressed back to primitive instincts," Harry shrugged.

"I guess so. It all seemed so far-fetched, but that's why they were entertaining. But for it to actually happen…" he trailed off, looking fearful. "It doesn't make sense. Why would Voldemort use anything remotely Muggle to get his sick pleasure from?"

"I'm just as baffled as you are," Sirius replied.

"What if it's not Voldemort," Harry said suddenly. Sirius looked doubtful.

"I know it seems odd that Voldemort would take his cues from Muggle stories but who else could pull this off? And you said so yourself that the stories differ on why these zombie things exist anyway." But Harry didn't look convinced.

"Think about it; Voldemort loathes Muggles. He wants to obliterate any sign of them. Wouldn't it be easier to use the Inferi? Muggles know how to kill zombies, they've seen the movies, read the stories, know the legends by heart. You should have seen Jill; they had no chance against her. It'd be so stupid for Voldemort to use something Muggles know how to fight against."

"How do you kill zombies?" he asked eagerly. "Because let me tell you, I tried every spell I could think of before I high-tailed it out of there. The guy simply could not be stopped."

"Destroy the brain. Always destroy the brain. I don't know why, but that's the only thing that works. Every zombie fan worth his salt knows that." Sirius looked warily at Harry.

"Why do I think that you happen to be a zombie fan?" Harry shifted guiltily, playing with a loose piece of fabric on his sling.

"Well, I mean, like I said, they were so unbelievable that it was entertaining. Of course, the Dursleys would have disapproved of me watching them, but sometimes I would sneak downstairs at night to watch when one was on T.V." Sirius still looked leery. "You would have liked them too, Sirius! It was so wicked to see the humans come up with different ways to kill the zombies or how tenacious the zombies were. Of course it sucked that there was hardly ever a happy ending but…" Harry suddenly looked very alarmed and he grabbed his godfather's arm and pushed his sleeve up.

"Oy! What do you think you're doing?" Harry was frantic.

"Have you been bitten?" Sirius tried to wrench his arm away, but Harry had a vice-like grip. "Have you been bitten?" he repeated again, bordering on the hysterical.

"No, they didn't bite me! They guy tried to but I snapped his jaw! I'm fine! I swear!" The panic receded slightly and Harry let go of his arm, leaving stark white finger marks.

"That's how it spreads, Sirius. That's how the zombies take over so quickly. If they bite you, you're dead within a matter of days. But not just dead. You come back as a zombie. There's no cure for it. You don't remember who you are, or your loved ones. All you want is food. You'd kill your own mother." Sirius was horrified, but he didn't want Harry to become anymore panicked. He hesitated slightly, unsure of how the gesture would be received, and put his hand on Harry's left shoulder. Harry relaxed.

"This is good. Now we know how to survive. Destroy the brain, don't get bitten." He gave a gentle squeeze. "Whatever's happening, we're going to make it. After all, this is Sirius Black you're dealing with. I don't let a little thing like walking corpses stop me." But, even in his bravado, Sirius wasn't so sure. Inferi were one thing. But these zombies seemed so unstoppable. Yet, Harry looked pacified, and right now, that's all that mattered.

"Right, forgot who I was talking to," Harry teased. His stomach growled loudly and Sirius chuckled.

"You'll be happy to know that I thought ahead before I went on my vigilante mission." Sirius reached into his bag and fished out some Pumpkin Pasties. Harry's eyes lit up and he stared at them greedily. "I made Moony get a stockpile when I first moved back into my old place. Haven't had candy in a long time." He handed a few to Harry who practically inhaled them. Sirius began looking for some Chocolate Frogs when a clink of metal rang out as something fell to the floor. Harry gasped.

"Sirius, why do you have a gun?" Sirius was puzzled as he picked up the cold, hard object.

"Is that what this thing is called?" he mused, holding it flat in the palm of his hand. "I bought it years ago, when I was about 16." Harry looked flabbergasted at seeing a wizard holding a Muggle weapon.

"Why though? Do you even know what that does?" Sirius was offended.

"Of course I do! It, erm... blows up balloons," he said lamely.

"That's a Muggle weapon! You know, how Muggles kill each other?" Sirius now looked at the gun with slight revulsion. "How the hell did you get it?"

"Well, your father figured I needed a night out away from the pure-blood mania of my parents. So, we pounded back a couple drinks and hit the town." Sirius had a far off smile on his face as he reminisced. "We did a lot of stupid things that night, but it sure was a wicked time. We even got matching tattoos." Sirius twisted around and lifted up his jumper slightly to reveal a poorly drawn lion. "Yeah, it wasn't the most high-end place," Sirius explained, seeing the amusement on his godson's face. "But when you're drunk, you really don't care.

"Anyway, so we're wandering about, doing God knows what, and we stumble upon this shop full of Muggle items. Now, my mother, being the good pure-blood fanatic she is, loathes anything Muggle. James and I thought it'd be brilliant way to piss her off, especially since I had just gotten a Muggle tattoo. This was the first thing that caught my eye, probably because it was shiny. I took it home, waved it in front of her face, made her hysterical with rage, and got a good beating from my father," Sirius finished bitterly. Harry was giving him a look that Sirius couldn't quite read. He was absentmindedly playing with that loose bit of fabric again, chewing on his bottom lip.

"I didn't know your parents hated you," he said in a low voice. Sirius ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. This was the last topic he wanted to ever discuss.

"So, this is a Muggle weapon?" he hastily changed the subject, picking the gun up so that it glinted merrily in the sunlight. "How does it work?" Thankfully, Harry wasn't one to pry about conspicuously changing subject matters and he took the gun from Sirius's hands.

"See this?" his index finger was curled around the small 'C' shaped part. "This is the trigger. You squeeze this, and a bullet, a small piece of metal, comes bursting out of the barrel." He ran his finger along the long metal part, tapping the small hole at the end. "The bullet hits the person faster than they can blink, that's what makes them so deadly. Makes a hell of a bang too." Harry looked thoughtful; he was holding it high above his head and peering at it intensely.

"Have you noticed that magic does nothing against them?" he asked suddenly, still staring intently at the gun.

"No, really?" Sirius drawled with a roll of his eyes. "I thought maybe my aim was just bad."

"Did you happen to buy any bullets when you bought this?" Harry asked as though Sirius hadn't spoken.

Sirius shrugged, "Can't say for sure," he said, "that night is mostly a blur to me now." Harry handed the gun back and Sirius placed it gently back in the bag, wary of potentially setting it off.

"That could be really useful," Harry explained. "Jill was loaded with guns and ammunition and she managed to fight off hordes while I got my wand. With magic being so useless, that'll help us survive. But we'll need more bullets. Damn, how are we going to be able to get them without the zombies seeing us?" Sirius smirked.

"Hello, wizard here? I can easily transfigure items into these bullet things." Harry blushed.

"Right." Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw an unexpected blinding light accompanied by a strong _whoosh!_ A small rectangle scrap of parchment drifted slowly towards the ground before Sirius reached out and grabbed it.

"YES!" he cried excitedly. "Finally, something going right!" He thrust the paper under Harry's nose. "Quick! Memorize this; it's the address of Headquarters. We're getting the hell out of here!" Harry's face split into a grin as his eyes quickly scanned the paper. Sirius hurriedly stuffed the candy back into his bag and leapt out from the van. For the first time in his life, he was glad his father had been a paranoid wack-job who had charmed the house to be virtually impenetrable.

Buckbeak, still in tune with Sirius's every movement, was already on his feet, anxiously pawing at the ground. Sirius didn't even bother having Harry attempt to get onto Buckbeak's back with one arm and hoisted him up, before plopping himself down soon after.

"Sirius?" Harry asked, still wearing a grin, as Sirius secured the bag around his back. "You pounded back a couple drinks, bought a gun, and got a tattoo all at the tender age of 16? I think someone's embellishing." Sirius's laugh was loud and long; his whole body felt lighter than air at the safe house awaiting them.

"Harry, Harry, Harry!" he managed between bouts of laughter. "When you're as handsome and charming as me, you can make women give you just about anything."

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Tonks climbed the stairs, her whole body sluggish and unresponsive. The scene of her mentor getting bitten was seared into her memory, mercilessly playing over and over again. Why hadn't she been paying attention? Too concerned with her own survival and now Moody was as good as dead. She felt a large lump rise in her throat that would not be forced down.

The others still didn't know. The elation at Harry being okay was something Tonks couldn't bring herself to destroy. It had been so long since anyone had worn a genuine smile in this gloomy house. Everyone had been so stressed over Voldemort and the Ministry's persecution against Dumbledore and Harry that misery seemed like a permanent resident.

Hermione knew though. Tonks felt a surge of affection for the bushy haired teenager. It had been so relieving to see that she wasn't the only one who knew what zombies were, who knew you had to destroy the brain, who knew that the bites were the kiss of death…

Tonks reached her destination, pausing briefly to heavily sigh. She'd have to tell them soon. It wasn't fair to keep them in the dark, especially when Moody would die and turn on the whole house. She passed by Sirius's bedroom, where Snape (who had returned and harshly told Hermione her parents were dead) and Dumbledore were examining the bite, trying different incantations to heal it. Both men's brows were heavily creased and Tonks knew that the bite stubbornly remained, as expected. If magic couldn't kill them, who would honestly think that it could heal the bite?

Mad-Eye looked terrible, even though it had only been two hours since he had been bitten. His good eye was unfocused, as though he had been drinking, and his face was ashen. Tonks's breath hitched. Was the venom spreading that quickly? In the movies, the infection didn't fully take hold until at least a few days after the bite. But, this was reality, Tonks grimly reminded herself. And though zombies were straight out of fiction, for right now, they were as real as the nose on her face. The movies no longer came up with the rules. In fact, there were no rules anymore.

"Mad-Eye," she spoke in a choked voice. His magical eye spun towards her before his normal one, though she was extremely relieved that it seemed more focused at her voice. She was in the room before she could think, her arm snaked around his shoulders and her other hand gently resting on his wrist. She took no notice of Snape and Dumbledore staring at her unexpected and somewhat unwelcome entrance.

"Going soft on me, Nymphadora?" he growled, though the sternness was half-hearted. Tonks gave a watery chuckle.

"Tonks," she admonished softly. "How you holding up, you crazy old coot?" Mad-Eye harrumphed and narrowed his normal eye at her. Beside him, Snape was sneering at the sickening display of affection he was witnessing.

"Like I said, I'll be fine." Tonks laid her head on his broad shoulder. Mad-Eye grew tense, as expected, but with his time slipping away so quickly, Tonks thought nothing of making him uncomfortable.

"If you want me to start calling you Tonks, you best stop hanging off me," Mad-Eye scolded, clearly unhappy and unsure of how to handle such tender gestures.

"I see that overt displays of emotions are a trademark of the Black family," Snape sneered, disgusted. Tonks glowered at him, wanting nothing more than to give him a good punch in the face. Did the man ever stop trashing people? Dumbledore was giving her a piercing gaze; Tonks was sure that he knew that there was information she hadn't shared yet.

"This wound is unlike any I've seen," Snape said silkily, turning his attention back to Dumbledore. "I can think of only a few potions that may serve as a remedy, but I must warn you that there are no guarantees."

"I know, Severus," Dumbledore said heavily. "Will you need to return to Hogwarts to fetch them?" Snape nodded curtly.

"One I do not have brewed; it will take a week for it to be ready…"

"We don't have that kind of time!" Tonks exploded, on her feet in a flash. But unlike Molly, Snape did not flinch at Tonks's anger. His lips merely curled, and his fathomless black eyes glinted with malice.

"Temper, temper," he whispered. "Taking cues from the mutt are we?" Tonks was shaking with rage; the urge to strike him nearly overwhelmed her, before her own words from earlier rang in her ears. "_We have to pull together…put aside our difference…" _

"Severus, please," she said after taking a calming breath. "This bite is much worse than you think. If it is not attended to quickly…" her voice died and tears sprang to her eyes. She chastised herself, not wanting to appear weak in front of her mentor. "The zombies carry an infection. It is transmitted through bodily fluids. Every moment we waste trying to poke and prod at it brings him closer to…" Tonks's voice could not be retrieved this time; she could not bear to say the last word.

Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a long glance; a whole conversation seemed to flow between their eyes. Snape unfurled himself from his crouched position, grimacing slightly, and glided to the door, his black robes billowing behind him. He had disappeared from her sight before Tonks heard a familiar deep voice carry in from the hall, filled with venom.

"Snivellus! What a way to ruin a good mood!" Tonks closed her eyes, half joyful, half exasperated. Sirius was back.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

An hour had passed since Harry had been ecstatically greeted by an entire household of wizards. His euphoria at finally being safe and seeing everyone alive, had quickly worn off when Ron had quietly pulled him aside and filled him on Hermione. The two boys had scowled over Snape's bluntness, and both agreed the slimy git had probably enjoyed seeing Hermione burst into tears.

They were now sitting, shoulder to shoulder, with a distraught Hermione in the middle, on the rickety old bed. Hermione's head was leaning heavily against Ron's shoulder, her left hand clutching at Harry's shirt. No words had passed between them; there was nothing anyone could say. Harry could only be there, sharing her pain, knowing all too well the agony of being an orphan.

From his view, Harry could see the lanky hair of Snape as he passed by the bedroom door, bottles held closely to his chest. He glanced into the bedroom, his face seeming more pallid than usual; in fact he was heavily limping. But that didn't stop him from openly smirking before disappearing down the hallway. Harry wanted nothing more than to throttle him, and he thought mirthfully of the verbal lashing Sirius had laid down on the potions master when they had returned.

In the silence, Harry felt his mind running over the sudden turn in events. Zombies. Who would have thought? Obviously Hermione had filled the rest of the household in earlier because he could hear the word in the hushed tones of various Order members as they flitted in and out of the room a few doors down.

But did they know how royally screwed they all were? Harry didn't think the wizards and witches actually understood that the zombies outnumbered humans by a 10:1 ratio, and the number would only grow worse as the hours passed. Sure, they were safe in this house, but could they stay here forever? Was that the plan? Stay here and slowly die, one by one, leaving the earth at the mercy of hordes on undead? That did not sit well with Harry, not in the slightest. They could do magic for God sakes! Surely there was a spell, or a potion that could fix this mess!

He looked up startled to see Sirius standing hesitantly by the door, wary of disturbing the comfort Hermione's friends were giving her. He had a grave look on his face, and his eyes bored into Harry. With a jerk of his head, Harry motioned him in.

"Those bites," Sirius began, with an odd glance towards the hall, "are you sure they are what you said they are?" Harry was immediately alert. He had to fight down the urge to grab Sirius's arm again. "Not me," Sirius added hastily, seeing Harry's expression. "But… there's someone who has been." Hermione slowly raised her head, brushing tears from her cheeks.

"Moody," she croaked. Sirius nodded.

"They're trying some potions now. But, Harry, are you absolutely, positively sure that those bites turn people into zombies?" Hermione had detached herself from Harry, but one hand was still hidden in the folds of Ron's shirt.

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly. "That's why there's so many of them." Harry nodded in agreement.

"But there's no reason why the potions shouldn't work, right?" he chimed in. "I mean, zombies are Muggles and we're magic. Even though spells don't work, why not potions…" Harry was reaching and he knew it. Sirius didn't look assuaged. He was giving Harry a look, a look he often had worn during the Triwizard tournament.

"Apparently, healing spells aren't working." He hesitated slightly, before turning his worried expression into a determined, but grim one. "Moody's dying. Tonks and I aren't holding out for a miracle. Pack your bags, all of you," he ordered. It was just then that Harry noticed the butt of the gun sticking out from Sirius's pants. He raised an eyebrow at Sirius, trying to convey to him that he had nothing to pack. "I've taken the liberty of already doing yours. Hermione," He added, his voice turning soft, "would you mind if I borrowed Harry for a little while?" Hermione hiccupped, but shook her head, turning slightly towards Ron.

Harry followed Sirius out into the hall, but Sirius quickly stopped him. He took the gun out from the side of his pants, looking very hesitant. He handed it over to Harry, who took it apprehensively. He had a vague notion of where this was going, but he hoped he was wrong.

"Show me again how you work that thing." Harry pressed his mouth into a thin line.

"You're going to kill him aren't you?" Sirius didn't look shocked or ashamed. He simply nodded.

"Tonks told me that's what you have to do. The others," and he cast a disgusted look down the hall, "are not so willing to believe her. They figure that the Muggles can't have been right about everything when it comes to zombies. They are just stories after all," he pitched his voice high and Harry had the distinct impression that he was mocking Mrs. Weasley. "But since you, Tonks, and Hermione are all saying the same thing, I'm not willing to mess around."

"But the potions could work," Harry tried again. "Spells and potions are different. There's no need to start killing people just yet…"

"I don't relish the fact of killing the man who taught me all my Auror skills but I'm not waiting around for him to become infected and start tearing through the house. Not when you could get hurt," he finished sternly. Harry felt a strangely warm feeling in the pit of his stomach at Sirius's last sentence. But his eyes were still hard.

"Listen, Sirius, we could be making a big mistake. Let's just wait to see if they work. What if we shoot him and he would have lived?"

"We could be making a mistake just standing here wasting time. Now show me how you work that damn thing, Harry, this is not a debate."

"Sirius, please, just wait. We need to see if those potions work. You don't understand, if wizards have a cure for this, we can defeat the zombies." Sirius's face remained as hard as stone.

"No. If you don't show me, I'll ask Hermione. I am not kidding around, Harry." Harry could see he wasn't but he didn't want to give in so easily. He stupidly considered bolting and chucking the damn thing out the window but somehow he knew Sirius would come after him. Reluctantly, he showed him how to aim, pull the trigger, and warned him against the inevitable recoil. Sirius snatched it from him as soon as his explanation was over and strode down the hall, Harry half-jogging to keep up with him.

"Sirius, wait, _wait_," he pleaded. Sirius paid him no mind. He finally overtook him, and stood right in front of his godfather, his chest rising and falling rapidly from anxiety. He knew that Sirius was doing the right thing; Moody wouldn't want to become a zombie anyway, they were doing him a favour really. But a desperate part of him was still holding out for the potions to fix this. They were _fucking_ wizards, why wouldn't magic work!

But Sirius looked livid. His grey eyes were narrowed into slits and his jaw jumped with supressed rage. Harry's own anger dissipated immediately, and he held up both his hands, gesturing to Sirius he had meant no harm. Without warning, he had grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him roughly by his side, raising the gun menacingly.

"Trust you to turn into a fucking zombie," he hissed. Harry followed Sirius's gaze, right into the deadened eyes of Severus Snape.

A/N: First off, so sorry for the long absence! I'm currently away on holiday, and trying to bang out this chapter while still doing vacation things has been hard. I hope you all forgive me! Secondly, fanfiction is being a brat and won't let me reply to any of the reviews! So, hopefully this time around it will, I've been trying in the midst of writing but it's just not happening. But know I read, re-read every single one of them and appreciate them all, thank you so much for subscribing this story, putting it on favourites, and reviewing! Hopefully next time around, I am able to reply! Anyway, bit of an explanatory chapter, not much action, but don't think old Arinia's gone soft on you now; the zombies will be back to terrorize our poor characters soon enough! Hope you all enjoy this chapter, despite the long absence. I'll be back home soon and furiously writing the next chapter!


	8. Wizard Zombies

Chapter Eight: Wizard Zombies

"Harry, get back." Sirius roughly pushed Harry behind him, but Harry could hardly budge. His eyes kept flickering from the gun to the newly zombified Snape. He could see that Snape still had his wand in his hand and was swinging it loosely back and forth.

"Aim for the head," he instructed in a low breath. Sirius's finger curled around the trigger when Harry gasped in horror. He had left the safety on in a last ditch attempt to prevent Sirius from killing Moody.

"Sirius!" his godfather had already pulled the trigger, looking dumbstruck when nothing happened. He tore his eyes from Snape to examine the metal instrument and the zombie charged, his jaws snapping like a shark, right towards Sirius's neck.

Harry lunged himself at his professor without thinking. He heard Sirius bellow his name as he and Snape crashed against the wall, sending plaster cascading around them. Snape's body felt hot, as though there was molten lava channelling through his veins. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gleam of a mouthful of teeth about to clamp down onto his shoulder. Before he could react, a pale arm had shot out of nowhere, pushing the head back against the damaged wall.

"HARRY, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Sirius roared, struggling to hold Snape back.

"Sirius, what is going… oh my God!"

"Tonks, take Harry!" Sirius ordered.

"I'm not leaving!" Snape's head had finally gotten free of Sirius's grasp, but Harry had already mimicked Sirius's earlier position before the potions master could do any damage. For a brief moment, they locked gazes; Harry saw hundreds of different emotions swirling in those grey eyes before…

"Get the gun!" Harry didn't need to be told twice. He wiggled his way out of the two squirming bodies and scrambled towards the weapon. Tonks had her wand drawn, and she kept dancing left and right, trying to get a clear shot of Snape. Ron and Hermione had also come out of their room to see what all the commotion was about.

Suddenly, Sirius let out a guttural howl and for one heart-stopping moment Harry feared the absolute worst. What he saw was almost as bad. Snape had his wand held directly against his chest, and hot fire was licking at his godfather's neck. Snape didn't even seem to realize he was doing it; his eyes were still glassy, and his mouth was still snapping. Sirius continued to keep the head at bay, but his face was twisted in agony. Before Harry could help him out, another grisly growl issued from behind him, followed by a heavy thump on the floor.

He whirled around to be greeted by Mad-Eye Moody, only his blue eye was spinning wildly in its socket and his normal eye was dilated. He too, had his wand gripped in his hand and there were ominous looking yellow sparks pouring from the tip. Harry clicked off the safety and fired, but Moody had hurled towards him at the same time. The bullet lodged itself in his cheek, but the heavy form of Mad-Eye was soon crushing Harry on the floor.

He could hear muffled yells from his position. Harry somehow managed to roll over on top of him, but Moody was strong and the two began wrestling back and forth. The yellow sparks nearly blinded Harry. His body too was searing hot, and it was all Harry could do to touch his skin.

"Could somebody kill him already!" Harry screeched, as one spark narrowly missed his eye.

"I'm trying!" Tonks cried back, "but you're in the way!"

"I can't help but be in the way!" Harry yelled. "He's going to fucking kill me here!" His hands were starting to blister; his eyes began tearing from the sheer heat emanating from Moody. Then, he was airborne, and landing in a heap on the floor a few feet away. He glanced up to see Tonks had levitated him off Mad-Eye. She swung her wand like it was a lasso, but Moody had sprung to his feet the instant Harry was gone, and was on her before Harry could blink. He saw that Sirius was still the only one restraining Snape and there were angry red sores on his cheeks now. Harry felt helpless. Sirius and Tonks were both in trouble. How could he help both?

Ron and Hermione were still standing anxiously by the doorway to their room, clutching at each other. Neither had their wand drawn. In the distance, Harry thought he heard pounding footsteps, but he barely registered the sound.

"ARE YOU GOING TO HELP OR NOT?" he raged at the pair, fury boiling inside him at their idleness. Shame simultaneously crossed their features before their wands were whipped out. Harry made his way to Sirius, and wrenched his godfather from Snape's strong grasp. Sirius was staggering and his breathing was ragged. There was fire still spurting from Snape's wand. Beside him, Ron and Hermione were attempting to help Tonks, who was yelling a mixed stream of swear words and jinxes, but with her wand lying on the floor, nothing happened.

"Holy hell!" Molly, the twins, Ginny, and Lupin had all come storming up the stairs to investigate the racket. Lupin turned to the red-haired family. "Molly, take the children and get to the Burrow!" Molly stood frozen in place.

"Remus, I…"

"GO!"

"But Ron…"

"I'll take care of him!" Harry heard the protests from the three Weasley children, and then the sharp crack of Apparition. He was trying to dodge Snape's advances; his wand and the gun had fallen somewhere down the hall when Moody attacked. Sirius had slumped to the floor; his whole neck was covered in gruesome third degree burns. Harry saw with dismay that his breathing had become short gasps.

"Sirius is hurt!" he shouted to no one in particular. He heard Tonks swear, as one of Hermione's curses had missed Moody's head and hit Tonks's shoulder instead. Harry grabbed a picture frame off the wall and smashed it across the face he hated so much. Snape's scorching body dropped to the ground, but rebounded almost instantly.

"Reducto!" Harry ducked just in time to see Remus's curse go directly for Snape's head. The joy he felt was replaced with shock as he saw the jet of light dissipate upon reaching Snape. What the fuck?

"That's it, we're leaving!" Remus commanded. He hoisted Sirius up and slung his arms around his shoulder. "Harry, come on!"

But, Harry had had enough. He barked instructions to Remus, telling him to keep Snape at bay by any means necessary. He dashed down the hallway and nearly skidded past the weapon, making sure to scoop up his wand as he went by. Picking the gun up, he pivoted gracefully, firing a single round right into the back of Snape's greasy skull. The loud bang was enough to startle the group briefly, save for Tonks who was still fighting the zombie Moody.

Remus had Ron and Hermione by his side. He was staring at Harry with a mix of pride and fury. Tonks had finally managed to free herself from Moody's grasp and tried to fire a spell at him.

"Why won't it work?" she cried desperately. Each spell merely disappeared, as though she had never fired them at all.

"OY!" Harry bellowed. Moody turned from Tonks and growled loudly at him. Harry immediately fired, and Moody dropped to the floor with a loud _thump!_ Harry stood there for a moment, guilt swelling inside him. "Sorry Mad-Eye," he whispered, as Mad-Eye's lifeless eye stared straight into his own.

But Harry had no time to be relieved. He could see that Sirius's body had gone completely limp, and both he and Tonks had nasty burns from their prolonged fights.

"Help me hold him up," Remus said as Harry rushed over. Sirius's breathing was barely audible. "Go to the Burrow" he told Tonks, who had taken hold of Hermione. "Hold onto him tight Harry, or he might splinch."

Before he could react, he felt the peculiar sensation of Apparition; it was though he was being squeezed through a narrow hole. His lungs crushed together, his whole body felt as though it was being folded like origami, and suddenly he was landing in an ungraceful heap on the tile floor of the kitchen.

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley had rushed forward to her youngest son and began raining kisses on his cheeks. The rest of the Weasley children and Hermione were standing awkwardly around the table, each of their faces paled and frightened. Harry felt strangely numb as he hastily moved glasses, dishes, and food off the table. He helped Remus lift Sirius onto it. Up close, his burns looked ten times worse. Charred and crusted, his neck looked as though someone had smeared charcoal over it.

"Is there a spell that can fix this?" Harry asked.

"Not for burns this bad, we need a salve. Molly, do you happen to have Miss Inferno's Burn be Gone?"

"I can check," the matriarch called as she bustled out of the kitchen. She came back with a large red tub full of a sickly yellow goop that stank strongly of vinegar and lobster, her oldest son, Bill, right behind her. Harry and Remus set to work, spreading the concoction all over Sirius's neck and face.

"How long until it works?" Harry asked, his voice sounding loud in the unusually quiet kitchen. Remus would not look at him.

"It might not. This salve is usually only used right after a burn as occurred. We might have waited too long."

"Is that it then? Sit around twiddling our thumbs, seeing if he'll die or not?" Harry retorted hotly.

"Burns are usually cured by potions," Remus stated with forced calm. "Unfortunately, our resident potions master is lying dead at Grimmauld Place."

"Sirius said you were the best at healing. I guess he was mistaken," Harry nearly spat. Remus finally looked at him, his eyes flashing.

"Perhaps he was," Remus spoke with an edge now. "Of course, if you had listened to me when I told you to come here…"

"Maybe if you had come to the rescue a little sooner, he wouldn't be lying on the table nearly dead!"

"That is enough!" Tonks shouted. "No one could have predicted that the zombies could do magic! This is no one's fault! We can't start being at each other's throats over stupid things!" Remus and Harry were both panting, refusing to look at each other.

"What about Dumbledore? Where the hell is he?" Harry just realized that the bearded headmaster was nowhere to be found.

"He was summoned to the Ministry right after you arrived," Remus answered, still keeping his eyes firmly away from Harry.

"He went to the Ministry when he knew Mad-Eye was going to become a zombie!" Harry roared. "What the hell is he playing at?"

"Did it ever occur to you that perhaps he is needed elsewhere? That Kingsley himself pleaded for his help? If the Ministry is overrun by zombies than we are in more trouble than two zombies coming after us!" Remus shouted, reminding Harry for the first time of his alternate wolf form. Harry knew that Remus was right, but foolish pride prevented him from extending an olive branch. Instead, he took to rubbing more of the salve on Sirius, though his neck was caked with the stuff anyway.

"I think we should move Sirius to another room to recover," Molly spoke, her voice shaking a little. With Tonks and Remus's help, Harry moved Sirius to the den and laid him on the couch. His godfather still hadn't opened his eyes, though Harry was somewhat relieved to see his breathing wasn't as shallow as before. Remus muttered something about contacting Dumbledore, before leaving Harry and Tonks alone.

"He'll be alright," Tonks was suddenly beside Harry, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

"How do you know?" Harry asked glumly. Tonks gave a tiny smile.

"I don't think Sirius could ever forgive himself if Snape was the one to kill him." Harry could barely manage to crack a grin.

"Maybe we should take him to a hospital." Tonks turned her head from him and stared at Sirius for a long time, a frown playing across her lips.

"Harry, you know as well as I do that hospitals are death traps when it comes to zombies," she finally said. "Dumbledore is an even better healer than Remus. When he comes back…"

"_If _he comes back," Harry interjected.

"_When_ he comes back," Tonks carried on as though there hadn't been an interruption, "he'll fix Sirius up in no time. Dumbledore is a great wizard, Harry. As long as he's alive, we have a really good chance of solving this mess for good." Harry tried to be comforted by Tonks's words, but he couldn't help feeling that they were empty. They continued to sit in a long, gloomy silence, each being plagued with treacherous thoughts.

"We're really screwed, you know that?" Harry said softly.

"Keep thinking like that and we will be," Tonks stated firmly. Harry snorted. Was that the secret? The power of positive thinking? Harry snuck a glance at Tonks. He had only known her for a couple hours, but he already liked her. Still, if she thought that being stupidly optimistic was the trick than she obviously hadn't watched as many zombie movies as she claimed.

"Our only weapon is useless now. How the hell are we supposed to fight the zombies then? Muggles and wizards don't look any different from each other. If wizards aren't wearing cloaks, how are we supposed to know which zombies we can use magic against and which ones we can't? Admit it Tonks, we're fucked and you know it."

"I'll admit, the odds are pretty stacked against us, but if we pull together then…"

"Why do you keep doing that?" Harry interrupted, thoroughly annoyed with her irrational optimism. "Do you honestly believe that if we just think hard enough that we can win, we will? You're giving everyone false hope." Tonks looked sharply at him.

"And what's your plan then? "Sorry everybody, but we've already lost, so let's start offing each other now." If that's what _you_ honestly think, then you're not the boy I thought you were." Harry couldn't help but laugh at that.

"You've only known me for a few hours and you're already giving me that line?"

"You ignored my question. Is that what you honestly think?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"No! I just think we need to be realistic about our chances!" Tonks raised her eyebrow and her mouth became pencil thin.

"What do you think I've been doing? I was the one who was about to kill my mentor if you've forgotten!" Harry immediately felt shame burrow into the pit of his stomach, the gun stashed in his belt suddenly feeling heavy.

"I didn't mean it like that," he mumbled, his eyes downcast. "I just don't know what to think right now. I never would have thought in my wildest dreams that I'd actually be fighting zombies." _Or killing people. _Harry added silently. Tonks chuckled.

"Nor I. I keep thinking that this is some crazy nightmare and I'll wake back up at Headquarters. I just hope Dumbledore manages to get whatever is going on at the Ministry under control or we really _are_ screwed." Harry didn't want to even consider what was happening there. He reached out and gently touched Sirius's wrist. He was surprised to find it cold and clammy.

"Do you really think he'll be alright?" Harry hated sounding so childish, but he felt at ease around the young Auror.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it. Now come on, I don't want to leave poor Hermione as the only one to calm everyone down."

Harry stood up as Tonks left the room, his fingers lightly grazing the barrel of the pistol. Trying to ignore the echo of the gunshot ringing in his head, Harry glanced one last time at his godfather, and then slowly followed Tonks.

**A/N:** Dare I come out after a month's absence? I'm so terribly sorry, dear readers! My excuse this time? Simple writer's block. This chapter kicked my ass. Repeatedly. There were so many frustrating weeks of not being able to hammer out a coherent paragraph. I simply could not find the right words! Luckily, I have an amazing beta named randomchick16 who came to my rescue big time and I owe her a heaping mound of Swiss Chocolate. Anyway, I hope this chapter was worth the wait, and I hope *fingers crossed* that my next chapter will go more smoothly. As always, thank you so much to all my reviewers, and people who favourite and alert this story! Love you all!

I have a poll on my profile page, about who everyone wants to see survive in this story. I know I asked way back in chapter two, but that was two years ago, and people's opinion's might have changed seeing how I write these characters. Anyway, I would really appreciate if you guys could vote in the poll, because the results will directly affect the next chapter so please vote! Thanks!


	9. The Ministry Falls

Chapter Nine: The Ministry Falls

Albus Dumbledore was not easily shaken.

Being over a hundred did that to a man. Albus had seen it all; the best mankind had to offer, and the depths of depravity to which it sank. Truly he had thought, perhaps naively in hindsight, that nothing more could shock him.

Then this happened.

His mind had been twisting itself into a pretzel trying desperately to solve the mystery as to what was happening. Instinctually, he had first thought of Voldemort; after all, who else could so masterfully pull of something so wretched that was so focused on Muggles? Yet, something didn't feel right. It had all happened so suddenly, almost overnight. Dumbledore remembered the days when scores of Inferi ran rampant. It had taken years for Voldemort to build up such an extensive army. But, who else could it be?

The whole Order was counting on him to come up with another of his famously brilliant plans. He could see the fear in their eyes as they all looked to him as their shining beacon of hope. Dumbledore had become accustomed to this role over the many decades, but it was times like these where he wished he didn't have to put on the mask of calm, for he was just as terrified as they were.

"Albus!" Kingsley was standing in front of the door to Fudge's office; his robes were rumpled and sweat beaded his forehead.

"I came as quickly as I could, Kingsley." Dumbledore could hear violent retching sounds from the other side of the door. "What happened?"

"We're too late; the Muggle Prime Minister's office was crawling with those things and he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he escaped or he's dead, I don't know. But, one of them bit Fudge, and he's become quite ill. I think…"

"That the zombies carry an infection and spread it through bites?" Dumbledore finished his sentence heavily. "You would be correct. Has anyone else been bitten?"

"I can't say for sure, I've kept him locked in his office, but I have yet to be on other floors. Have you?"

"No, I came directly to this level."

"People who were bitten probably still dragged themselves to work." They exchanged a concerned glance. The retching sounds gave way to silence. "I tried healing him, Albus, but nothing worked." Dumbledore nodded gravely.

"Yes, that seems to be an unfortunate pattern emerging. Severus thinks potions may remedy the infection, but I'm unsure if they did or not."

"I'm not sure we have time for potions," Kingsley said slowly, the implications ringing clear for both men. Dumbledore felt a hollowing sensation begin in his stomach. He loathed killing anybody. He had only performed such a heinous act on five occasions, and every last one of them left a black mark of guilt in his spirit.

"Let us be quick then."

Fudge was slumped against his handsome mahogany desk; his eyes closed and his mouth agape with bits of spittle on his chin. Dumbledore held his wand loosely by his side, whereas Kingsley was at the ready. Dumbledore couldn't see Fudge's chest moving. His eyes connected with Kingsley, who gave a jerk of his head as if to say, "Now or never."

It happened before Dumbledore had even thought of the spell. Fudge's eyes snapped open and he was on his feet in a flash. Kingsley jumped back, but Dumbledore held his ground. He had prepared himself for this. Knowing the zombies tendency to leap forward for their prey, Dumbledore sent a violet jet of light directly towards Fudge's forehead before he could pounce. He expected him to crumple to the ground and was aghast when the light simply disappeared.

Dumbledore's head was soon smashing off the wooden floor and he felt a whoosh of air fly over him. The heavy form that had pushed him down soon lifted, and he raised his face just in time to see Kingsley dash out the door, yelling curses. Dumbledore was about to follow when he crashed right into a head of flaming red hair.

"Dumbledore!" a pompous, yet slightly relieved voice, greeted him. Had it been any other time, Dumbledore would have been pleasantly surprised to see Percy Weasley staring at him without a trace of hatred.

"Percy, hello," replied Dumbledore serenely, as though a zombified Minister of Magic had not just escaped down the hallway. "I am hoping you are well."

"I… uh, I'm fine. But, why is Shacklebolt chasing the Minister of Magic?" Dumbledore gave a little sigh.

"Ah yes, things do seem to be getting a little out of hand. Perhaps I can request you to help me bring things under control again? I do remember your knack for diffusing difficult situations as Head Boy." Percy raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.

"Y-yes, I suppose." They took down the hallway where Kingsley had gone at a brisk pace. "People are going mad, Dumbledore. I expect it's all this You-Know-Who business you've been spouting for the past two months. Absolutely mental. They're attacking each other!" Dumbledore's heart sank. It had already begun. He sped up, and Percy had trouble keeping up. "You know, Dumbledore, idle flattery isn't going to make me believe you," Percy panted.

"I never expected it to," Dumbledore replied, still wearing the mask of calmness. "Yet, I point out; you agreed to come help a man whom you've been slandering in the press for the past two months." They descended the steps two at a time. Percy opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

"That… that is beside the point, Dumbledore! You have been spreading lies about You-Know-Who's return, and it's finally driven people round the twist! I'm helping you because perhaps you've finally realized what your lies have caused!"

"I do not truly believe you think that, Percy," Dumbledore's voice was soft. "It's alright to be scared." Percy's eyes widened, and he huffed. The pair rounded the corner and almost ran smack into Kingsley, who was panting heavily, and had a slash on his cheek.

"I lost him, Albus! He ran so fast; God knows where he's gone off to." He pointed at the gash on his cheek. "He could do magic, Albus. Nothing deadly, mind you, but it was a curse." Kingsley said this all very fast, which jarred Dumbledore who was used to hearing his slow, measured tone.

"Let's just be thankful he kept running and did not do any further damage to you," Dumbledore said. "You were correct in assuming bitten people still insisted on working. Percy here has told me they've already begun attacking." Kingsley swore and shook his head slowly back and forth.

"None of my curses worked. They just vanished. They must be immune to magic." Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly for a second. Their best weapon, really their only weapon, was now rendered completely useless.

"What is this rubbish?" Percy blustered, looking wildly back and forth between the pair. "Kingsley, I'm surprised at you! The Minister himself regarded you so highly and yet, I find you are in cahoots with Dumbledore!"

"Mr. Weasley, with all due respect, shut up." Percy's jaw dropped. "This is much bigger than your petty denial about Voldemort. Albus," he continued, his low voice dropping a few octaves, "we need to try and quarantine the zombies. It's our only hope."

"I agree, Kingsley. I think the Department of Mysteries might be our best bet. Percy," he turned to the third eldest Weasley who was still staring at Kingsley, utterly dumbstruck. "Where would you say most of these attacks are occurring?"

"I… I will not be part in your revolt against the Ministry!" He took a few steps backwards, his hands in the air.

"Percy!" Dumbledore was beginning to lose his patience. "I know you are frightened and confused about your loyalties, but if you do not put aside your misgivings about me, people will die!" A few tense beats passed, only broken by Percy's incredulous gasps. After what seemed like ages to Dumbledore, Percy finally lowered his hands, and his haughty exterior faded.

"It's everywhere, Dumbledore. Every place I've been has people fighting." Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. This was much, much worse than he had anticipated.

"Okay. We need to send out an announcement to the survivors to get home and avoid getting bitten," he ordered as the unusual trio strode down the hall towards the lifts. "I say we do this in the Atrium, where most people will be."

"We should summon any Auror's on duty to help us," Kingsley suggested. Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"We're going to have to be very careful," he began as they reached the lift and waited for the doors to open, "because these zombies spread their infection through bites. If one is coming after you, aim for the head that will destroy them…"

"Destroy whom, Dumbledore?" a sickly sweet voice lofted out of the elevator. Dumbledore had to fight to keep his face passive as he turned to face a short woman dressed head to toe in shocking pink.

"Good afternoon, Dolores." The toad like woman smiled widely, an affect that wasn't very becoming. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the faintest of frowns flicker across Kingsley's face.

"You haven't answered my question," she simpered. "Who are you planning on destroying? I should hope not the Minister!" she emitted a high pitched giggle.

"Of course not, Madam Undersecretary," Kingsley began in a somewhat pacifying voice. "Do you mind?" he gestured inside the elevator and she stepped aside. "Are you aware of the attacks that have been steadily increasing since this morning?" he asked as they descended.

"I expect that's because of all these nasty rumour's going around about a certain Dark Lord's return," she said, smirking over at Dumbledore. For some reason, Percy went very red.

"Indeed, Dolores, however perhaps you are aware of the army of undead now ravaging Muggle Britain?" She didn't answer right away. "We fear that wizards and witches living in close proximity to Muggles may have become ill and began spreading this sickness when they arrived for work. You should leave before it gets dangerous." The last thing Dumbledore needed right now was Dolores Umbridge making an already difficult situation impossible. He sincerely wished she would take heed with the other survivors and leave. Somehow, he knew that was wishful thinking.

"Oh, I don't think that will be happening," she whispered, and her smile widened. He and Kingsley exchanged an exasperated look.

The lift shuddered to its stop and the quartet had a brief moment to witness the sheer hopelessness of the Atrium before the golden gates creaked open. Dumbledore's stomach felt as though it were coated in lead. Coming to the Atrium had not been a good idea. The zombies were everywhere. Even Umbridge didn't have a nasty remark to make. The four hesitantly stepped outside the safety of the elevator, which immediately rose back up, leaving them alone with crowds of zombies. Dumbledore looked around; He could see no survivors.

The zombies hadn't notice their living guests yet. They were wandering aimlessly, sometimes bumping into each other and carrying on as if nothing had happened. He noticed right away that there was a tremendous pressure in the air, like that before a big storm. To his dismay, most of the zombies had their wands out, and even from here, Dumbledore could see many were doing magic.

Dumbledore realized his gross miscalculation pretty fast. Yes, the Atrium was where most people would be, and he had picked it precisely so the survivors could easily use the floo to escape. Yet, that same escape method went right into the heart of London, where those who had been bitten and managed to get away would have gone.

Why was it that his mistakes tended to be much more severe than average people?

"Albus," Kingsley was suddenly beside him, his voice a low hiss in Dumbledore's ear. "We need to get back up. There are no survivors here." Dumbledore's eyes cast around the expansive room again. He pressed the button behind him, feeling utterly deflated, and that's when he saw her.

A curly haired witch, barely over 20, was crouching behind the magnificent gold fountain, tears mingled with blood on her cheeks, but still very much alive. As far as Dumbledore could tell, she was the only one alive in the room. She was right in the thick of the horde, Dumbledore noted solemnly, yet she had stayed still enough so the undead had not noticed her. Yet.

The gears in his mind whirred furiously. Direct duelling was out of the question. They'd be eaten alive before they could blink. But, and he gripped his wand tightly, magic wasn't _completely_ useless was it? They would just have to be creative; even infuse Muggle duelling with magic perhaps…

"She's alive," he breathed so only Kingsley could hear. Kingsley followed his gaze, his frown deepening. Dumbledore knew he was torn between his survival instincts and moral obligation to help those in need.

"There are four of us and hundreds of them," he needlessly reminded the old headmaster. Dumbledore continued to stare at the woman, whose pale hands were clutched around the house elf's shoes... Dumbledore's mind finally clicked.

"Break the fountain, and start hurtling the pieces towards their heads. Magic isn't so useless," he instructed, louder this time so the other two could hear. Percy's eyes widened, whereas Umbridge's narrowed.

"That is a wilful destruction of Ministry property," her honeyed tones simpered loudly. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that." Kingsley hushed her, but she continued unabated. "You may have hoodwinked Shacklebolt and Weasley," she stepped forward and drew herself up to her full height, which wasn't intimidating, "but I am not so easily fooled." There was a stir in the horde, as though someone had just uttered a vulgarity. Deadened eyes were slowly beginning to glance their way.

"Madam Undersecretary, please!" Kingsley urged, glancing over to see rows of dilated pupils.

"No!" she dropped her childish voice, replacing it with something much more savage. Growls and hisses and creaking joints joined together in tune with her shrieks. "I will not tolerate lies! Enough of this! I will have order!"

"Dumbledore…" Percy said quietly, his eyes as wide as dinner plates, his index finger extended straight towards the fountain. Umbridge's little outburst had finally alerted the zombies that fresh meat had joined them. Their dismembered bodies turned menacingly towards them, tense and ready to tear the four apart. Dumbledore faced them, his wand held high. There would be no more deaths tonight.

"Cover me!" he shouted back and with a violent wave of his wand, the fountain was destroyed, sending golden pieces raining to the ground. The witch screamed as her refuge came crashing around her.

The deafening noise distracted some of the more stupid zombies, but those closest to the elevators would not be deterred from their buffet. Those with working legs charged, foam, spit, and blood frothing at their lips. Dumbledore summoned his ammo towards him, glittering metal pieces revolving around his head like a halo.

He began attempting to dart in and out of the crowd, but the problem was most still had their wands. Jets of light, fire, water, birds, everything imaginable were flying all over the place. No matter how much he ducked, swerved, and sent the fountain pieces to zombies directly in his way, he still took many hits. His robes were scorched, as was his abdomen, yet his beard was drenched in water. He could never risk stopping his continuous bombardment of pieces to do a Shield Charm. He simply pushed through, trying to ignore the steady pain screaming from every joint.

Despite it, he was nearing the witch, and his attack was working. Every time a golden piece made contact with a zombie's skull they crumpled to the floor, dead at last. Maybe, they still had a chance…

Then all hell broke loose.

The lone survivor had tried to make a run for it, despite the promise of rescue. Dumbledore yelled at her to stay put but she was beyond listening now. She had barely made it twenty feet before she was completely surrounded. Dumbledore's lungs were on fire, and yet he still pushed his aged body to run. However, more and more zombies kept appearing, blocking his path, injuring him with their unintentional magic. The witch looked frantically around the circle of zombies, her hands clutched together on top of her mass of curls.

"THE HEAD!" Dumbledore commanded, reeling from a jinx that fractured his hip. "AIM FOR THE HEAD!" She merely wailed in response, her body seemed to fold into itself, as a burly male zombie, whom Dumbledore recognized as Albert Runcorn, charged for her. Runcorn tore a large strip of flesh from her neck, sending bright red blood spattering across his chest. Dumbledore sent a piece of fountain careening towards his head, but there were more zombies than ammunition. The zombies crowded her, and her tan hand shot up in the air, as though she were drowning in the mass of people. Dumbledore felt his stomach turn when the arm dropped to the ground, and rolled towards him.

"DUMBLEDORE!" Kingsley had abandoned magic all together and was using brute force against any zombie that dared attack him. His bald head, shining with blood, jerked over to the elevator. Umbridge had locked herself in, and Percy, not wanting to be left alone, had stopped the elevator from lifting, and was yanking at the metal gates, desperate to get in. There were cuts all over the red head's face as Umbridge kept firing jinxes his way.

With much difficulty, Dumbledore managed to cut a path to his comrade, noticing with slight panic he barely had any golden pieces left. He summoned the few remaining on the ground. They only had about 15 minutes before they'd be done for. He was losing steam as the pain began eating away at the adrenaline.

"We have to leave!" Kingsley roared, dealing a blow to a zombie that was close to Dumbledore. The headmaster glanced over at Percy, images of Molly and Arthur floating in his mind. He owed it to them to protect him.

"Percy! Come with us! We can bring you home!" Percy acted as though no one had spoken. He still clung to the gates, tears trickling down his cheeks.

"Get away, you blood traitor, get away!" Umbridge shrieked. The zombies had seemingly multiplied. Kingsley and Dumbledore felt the space get smaller and smaller, their bodies becoming closer. Dumbledore had five pieces left. He locked eyes with Kingsley, who was giving him a look a soldier would give his commander when he knew he was about to die.

_No. _Dumbledore's resolve hardened. _No more deaths._

In one swift move he had grabbed both Kingsley and Percy by their robes and half dragged them over to the elevator beside Umbridge's. He watched panic stricken, as the flashing numbers slowly counted down the floors.

Percy was struggling away. The growls and hisses reached a deafening crescendo; the zombies were so close…

"NO! NO!" There was the horrendous sound of metal scraping against metal as the zombies swarmed the elevator. Hands groped for the stout woman cowering in the corner. The gates groaned under the sheer weight pressing against it until finally they gave away with a noise like the crack of a whip.

Strong hands were pulling Dumbledore inside the safety of a lift, but Dumbledore couldn't go. As much as he disliked Umbridge, she did not deserve to die in what was surely going to be a brutal fashion.

"Albus, it's a death trap!" Another pair of hands joined in the tug of war, finally succeeding in pulling the weakened wizard inside. Dumbledore could only watch helplessly as Umbridge tried to escape. But she was no match for the hundreds of zombies that were launching into a feeding frenzy. They dragged her to the ground, screaming all the way, ripping away at her putrid pink cardigan and her equally tacky pink shirt.

"HELP! HELP!" The one word was repeated over and over, as though it were an incantation. Her flabby stomach now exposed, the zombies dug in almost gleefully. They tore the soft flesh like it were paper, and her eyes bulged as she had to watch her own innards being chomped upon. Her intestines coiled like rope on the floor, liquids oozing from every pore. Dumbledore closed his eyes, hoping she would die soon. The pain must have been excruciating; death would be merciful.

There were several snaps; her arms had been ripped mercilessly from their sockets. Umbridge's screams died away, but she still had her mouth open, her chest heaving from pain and terror. The elevator slowly began to ascend, and the last Dumbledore would ever see of Dolores Umbridge was her body being pulled in half, her long spine slapping against the floor in a pool of blood.

After what seemed like hours, the elevator stopped, the gates slid open, but no one stepped out. All three wore matching expressions of unadulterated revulsion. The floor was eerily silent; the kind that happened after an evacuation had taken place. There were various important documents scattered on the floor; they were where the Aurors were.

Or, were supposed to be.

Kingsley hesitantly stepped out; it was his Department after all. Usually, this floor was positively bursting with the hustle and bustle of Aurors running from one person's office to another, low murmurs of private conversations, or overly loud jokes to help ease the pain of a rough day.

"Where is everyone?" Percy mused, still apprehensive of leaving the elevator. Kingsley didn't have an answer.

The entire place was deserted. All the cubicles usually containing witches and wizards hard at work were empty; it was like everyone had vanished. Kingsley had a knot in his stomach as he made his way to his work station. The dedicated men and women he worked with would never abandon the Ministry in such a dire time of need. So either they were helping out the Muggles or…

He must have voiced his thoughts because Dumbledore asked quietly, "All of them, Kingsley?" Kingsley leaned forward, placing his hands on his desk, ducking his head against his chest. He too, had taken many hits from the mind-boggling magical zombies. His knee in particular was killing him.

"Surely, at least one of them would have survived," Percy spoke up, and for the first time there wasn't an undertone of disbelief or indignation. He was looking at Dumbledore the way he had when he was at school.

"Yes," Kingsley said, "me."

For awhile, the only movement in the room were the hundreds of photographs of Sirius.

"I think," Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice tired and aged, "that quarantine would be an exercise in futility." Kingsley nodded, his face cold and numb.

"We're not just going to leave, are we?" Percy said hotly and his anger bounced off the cavernous room. "What if there are other survivors?"

"I think Percy brings up a good point, Albus. At the same time though, how will we fight them?" A heavy silence passed.

"With whatever we can find. Act like you're disarmed and are facing a Death Eater." Kingsley shook his head. Street-fighting. He had hoped he would never be in that situation again.

"Floor by floor?" he asked, and his whole body felt like there were weights tied around his ankles and wrists. Dumbledore only nodded.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

The rest of the floor was clear, and Kingsley wasn't sure whether he wanted to take that as good news or bad. The next floor up yielded little; only a few zombies that Kingsley and Dumbledore easily dealt with. It helped that those zombies had vital limbs missing that severely handicapped their motor skills. The floor after that was much the same; zombies, no survivors. But, their strength was waning. It was Percy who had salvaged Kingsley from a zombie that seemed to remember how to do the Cruciatus Curse, though he walked away sporting a massive black eye.

Kingsley didn't think he could deal with the crushing reality pressing down on him. His thoughts mocked him with grim scenarios and devastating predictions.

Were they the only ones left?

How much longer could they possibly do this?

"How did you manage to survive?" he asked suddenly, when they were in the lift. Percy frowned in contemplation.

"I don't know," he began slowly. "There were more survivors earlier on. I guess they didn't notice me. I'm pretty quiet." His face darkened with guilt and sorrow. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, turning to Dumbledore. Dumbledore managed a small smile. His nose was even more crooked than before.

"I forgive you." But Percy wasn't finished. He stuck out a hand that was quivering slightly.

"I'm at your service," he proclaimed. If this were any other situation, Kingsley would be trying to hide a smirk at the unnecessary grandiosity of it all. But right now, he felt an odd sort of relief at another comrade. Dumbledore shook the hand solemnly.

"Level Four: Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," the cool female voice announced, oblivious to the fact that she was now entirely obsolete.

Right away, the sounds of the doors opening alerted a passing man to his company. He charged, and he nearly bit Percy before Kingsley dropped him to floor like a sack of potatoes with the large brass weights he had nicked from some office. He hesitantly peered down the rest of the hallway; no bodies, dead or otherwise.

A good ten minutes of exploring later and they had run into five zombies; the last one barely taken down had it not been for Dumbledore's formidable power. Kingsley's body was screeching for rest, his robes warm with his own blood. None of them could keep this up anymore; the battles becoming longer, sloppier, and more taxing.

Kingsley shook his head roughly, earning concerned glances from his partners. Percy set down his weapon of choice, a heavy book, onto the table with a sigh. They were in a large office, probably of someone very important who was probably very dead.

"There has to be _somebody_," the red-head murmured, more to himself than anyone in the room. Kingsley wasn't so optimistic. He had been at the Ministry for three, maybe four hours maximum and the Atrium was already fit to bursting with undead. The infection was out of control; any hope of quashing it seemed to be slipping further and further away, along with the hopes of any fellow survivors.

Dumbledore had remained very quiet throughout their searching. Kingsley recognized his expression instantly; the hollow, detached look in his eyes that spoke of a man deep in treacherous thoughts.

"Come," he said in what was supposed to be a calming voice, but he heard it crack, "we've still got a lot of ground to cover." They shuffled out of the office, shoulder to weary shoulder, weapons more like shackles than a means to protect them.

They rounded a corner only to see several zombies devouring two old, balding wizards. Kingsley's stomach did flip and he gripped the weights tightly. Seven zombies. They'd be lucky to have a quick death.

Kingsley took a deep, shuddering breath, nodded curtly to his comrades, and dove in swinging.

They had the slight advantage of taking the zombies by surprise, and Kingsley managed to crack the skull open of a rather overweight zombie. Suddenly, he felt his eyes burn as though someone was pouring acid into them. He began brandishing the brass weapon blindly, not seeing whether it was friend or foe he was hitting. Someone was bellowing his name, but his whole brain felt oddly fuzzy.

Just as quickly as the blindness came, it was gone, and Kingsley remembered grimly it was a favourite duelling spell Aurors were taught. He had no time to dwell on memories. Percy was fighting a quickly losing battle against two zombies and Dumbledore had taken on a total of three.

A flash of blonde hair filled his vision before Kingsley felt the smooth surface of the floor connect hard with his back. Snarling lips revealed perfect white teeth and cold grey eyes…Lucius Malfoy.

Kingsley writhed under the other man's weight, and a small voice in the back of his mind, soft as a whisper of wind, mused that perhaps death wasn't so bad after all... that why should he bother anymore, when their situation was so hopelessly bleak…

But just as Kingsley was allowing himself to be lulled by that thought, a stronger, more animalistic surge of power overcame his psyche, and in a last Hail Mary kind of effort, twisted his body so that he was now on the zombie Malfoy. He grabbed the sides of his face, and twisted it so his neck snapped in a grimly satisfying way. It did nothing of course, except that Malfoy's attacks were now floppy and inaccurate and would be hilarious had it been any other situation.

Malfoy was scratching his arm, leaving long, jagged lines akin to a tiger more than a human. His body was so hot, Kingsley's eyes were tearing up. Oddly muffled screaming floated to his ears as he pounded mercilessly at Malfoy's blonde head, not giving much thought to strategy, or anything for that matter.

Malfoy's hair became matted with blood, and his head eventually dropped to the floor, no longer flopping around like a fish. Kingsley wanted nothing more than to just sit there and catch his breath, but the muffled screaming was becoming louder, and it was panicked.

Kingsley could hardly believe what he was witnessing. It was though he was seeing it in slow motion. It was Percy who was emitting the loud screams, whether from adrenaline or terror, Kingsley couldn't begin to process. And then, he saw what all the fuss was about.

There was another, more formidable crowd of zombies, barrelling down the hallway at top speed. Kingsley was vaguely aware that he was now standing, and flinging curses even though they were useless. Dumbledore was yelling something, but all Kingsley could hear was white noise, like a swarm of bees were in the room.

And Percy was looking back at the man who he had harboured nothing but blind hatred for, understanding gleaming in his eyes that were shining with tears. He was shouting something about his mom, father, and about love and forgiveness, and Kingsley couldn't really make it out because his legs were frozen, and his hands were shaking. The zombies were only twenty feet from them, and God, this really was the end…

The earth was trembling; Kingsley's senses were rushed back to him with a snap, like a rubber band. The ceiling began to have ominous looking cracks, slithering over Percy, who was running forward headlong into the horde of zombies. Kingsley and Dumbledore understood his plan at the same time; one went chasing after him, while the other held the pursuer back. Just as the first zombie lunged towards Percy, he sent a curse not at the dead surrounding him, but at the crumbling ceiling. With a final drawn out creak, the ceiling finally collapsed, sending down an avalanche of rubble and debris that narrowly missed the two wizards.

It took a few moments for the sound to settle, along with the dust that was now clinging to their already filthy robes. Dumbledore was pushing Kingsley roughly to the side with a look on his face that Kingsley didn't think was possible for someone like him.

Screeching and the sounds of bones snapping wafted over to them from behind the wall. Dumbledore was raising his wand, about to blast through the whole thing. Kingsley grabbed his arm and forcefully shoved it down.

"No, Albus! You'll get eaten alive! We need to leave; we have to get out of here! We need to warn the Order about what has happened!" But Dumbledore fought him, his wand clattering to the ground, as he lunged at the barricade, ripping away the debris as though he had gone mad. Kingsley picked up his own wand; a kind of numbness had taken hold of his heart.

"Albus," he said mechanically, placing a bloodied hand on his shoulder. "We need to go." Dumbledore stopped, and buried his face in his hands, displaying a vulnerability that Kingsley had and never would see again. He stood up, and tried to conjure a Patronus, but nothing but a silvery wisp spurted from his wand. He sank to his feet, simply staring at the wall.

The Ministry had fallen.

It was over.

**A/N:** Poor Percy! Never thought I'd say that. Now, I am back at university, starting an already impossibly busy year, so updates are going to slow down until Christmas, so just a warning. Also, thank you so much to everyone who voted in the poll! I'm keeping it up until next update, so if you haven't voted PLEASE DO SO! I want to get at least 10 more votes. Not really a tall order considering how many of you have this on alert. It really does help; a character I was considering killing off is now going to be spared for future chapters because you guys overwhelmingly voted for them too.

Sorry for the long absence, but school is a bitch, and likes to take my time away from pleasurable things. Thank you all who are reading, favouriting, putting this on alert, and especially to my absolutely AMAZING reviewers; you guys make my life, seriously. Thank you for being patient with me; I know long updates are infuriating but mine, and randomchick16's lives are quite busy at the moment. So continue to stick around: the body count only racks up from here.


	10. Holing Up

Chapter Ten: Holing Up

A thick sense of gloom had settled over the cramped quarters of the Burrow. Upon his return, his robes bloody and filthy from debris, Dumbledore had to relay the awful news to the now traumatized Weasleys. Molly had sunk to her knees, issuing strangled gasps. It never got easier telling a mother her child was dead. No matter how many doors he had knocked on during the war, Dumbledore always felt his heart twist in a sickening fashion as sheer devastation consumed them. He had left the family in the kitchen to mourn alone, feeling as though his very presence was rubbing in his failure to save Percy.

Dumbledore was mourning as well. News of Severus's death had reached him, alongside a hollowing sensation in the pit of his stomach. Over the years, Severus had become the person he confided most in; about the war, about his many theories. The man, though his view on humanity was skewed, offered valuable insights into the inner workings of Voldemort. And, though he would sneer at the compliment, he was a solid confidant, who would listen patiently to hours of Dumbledore's complex and somewhat convoluted speeches. Another failure. Another life needlessly ended.

Now, he was standing over a badly injured Sirius Black, closely examining his wounds. Perhaps this at least, he could fix.

"Professor?" a hesitant voice floated towards him. Dumbledore turned, feeling his chest tighten.

"Harry," he said softly, gesturing for the boy to come beside him. Harry shuffled obediently, staring intently at his godfather as he did so.

"Will he be alright?" Dumbledore sighed, watching Harry tense when he did so. Immediately feeling guilty, he cleared his throat in what he hoped would be a reassuring manner.

"Yes, he will. I dare say he will be awake shortly." A few heartbeats ticked by, Harry's shoulders sagging with relief as Dumbledore healed the charred skin anew. They sat simultaneously on the coffee table, Harry leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs.

"I know I have said this before, but your bravery and selflessness continue to amaze me, Harry." Harry's mouth twitched but he said nothing. "I heard of your actions at Grimmauld Place. Truly, you are a remarkable young man."

"Thank you," he mumbled, hands clenching his oversized jeans.

"Sir," he spoke up, his voice suddenly stronger, "what do you think is going on? Is it Voldemort?" Dumbledore took a while to carefully formulate his words, wondering how forthcoming he should be.

"Voldemort seemed the most likely candidate," he started slowly. "To my knowledge, there are no other wizards with the capability of executing such massive devastation." Harry looked up, not missing the past tense.

"Seemed?" Dumbledore sighed.

"You have heard what transpired at the Ministry?" Harry nodded. "Well, to my utmost surprise, a certain Lucius Malfoy had turned, along with several other prominent Death Eaters." Harry's eyes widened.

"But then, who else could have done it? Who else hates Muggles that much?" Dumbledore did not respond right away, not wanting to burden a boy who had already seen too much in his young life. He spared a glance over to the green eyes boldly boring into his own.

"It is too early to tell, but I am beginning to think that this might not have magical origins at all." Harry's eyes darted around the room, something he always did when his mind was frantically putting the pieces together.

"But then, why are they immune to magic? Why can some of them _do_ magic?" Harry asked, the words tumbled from his lips.

"I have been wondering the same thing, each explanation more unlikely than the last." His stomach squirmed slightly, chastising himself for dumping this on Harry. Had he not vowed this summer to allow Harry to experience some normalcy? To shield him as best he could from the upcoming horrors, at least for a little bit? But then, today was an extraordinary day, and Harry truly was an extraordinary boy. Had he not proved himself worthy by now?

"But… but… there's a way to stop this, right?" he asked. Dumbledore swallowed a lump in his throat at the desperation in his eyes. More than ever, he wished he had the answers.

"I will do everything in my power," he promised. "We must take extra precautions to safeguard everyone in this house. That means I'm afraid that your talent for bending the rules will have to be disposed of for now. You understand, I hope." Harry nodded in a way that was much too accepting for someone so young.

"Where do we go from here?"

"Right now, Harry, we regroup. I do not wish to take anymore hasty measures until we have carefully thought things through." Harry looked as though he was about to protest but Dumbledore swiftly interjected. "Yes, Harry. We must not lose any more lives; I think you would agree with that." A deep shame flitted across the teenager's narrow face and Harry seemed to shrink into himself.

"Of course." They lapsed into a strained silence, only broken by the stirrings of the man in front of them. Harry sucked in a breath as Sirius murmured something. When nothing more happened, he let out a ragged sigh.

Dumbledore longed to continue to sit there, to offer him comfort. But, he knew he needed to start planning their next move, and more importantly, making the Burrow as indestructible as possible. While no zombies had been seen near here yet, it was only a matter of time. Wincing as he stood up, he gave a small smile, which was returned. Dumbledore seized the spark of hope it gave him, vowing right then and there to fix this. For Harry's sake.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

Grief was a funny thing. As a child, Harry had never really experienced it. After all, being as deprived as he was, he never had much to grieve over. With Cedric, he had repressed his feelings successfully, so that they only disturbed him in horrifying night terrors.

But now, with the Dursleys, Moody, Percy, and yes, even Snape all dead, Harry was overwhelmed with the foreign emotions rampaging through his mind. He didn't know whether to sob as several Weasleys were now doing or sit there staring blankly at the wall. And, how was he to comfort Ron, who had just lost a brother? He couldn't hold his mate like he had Hermione. A shameful part of him wished that Ron would stay in the kitchen with his family, at least until Harry sorted through his own mixed up feelings.

Sitting on Ron's bed, nearly blinded by the neon orange surrounding him, Harry felt like an intruder. At least Hermione was with him, but in typical fashion she had buried herself in a large volume of some sort. The only sounds in the room were her occasional sniffles and the sometimes rapid whir of pages turning. Harry wanted to ask her what she was so anxiously looking for, but his voice had somehow deserted him.

"Harry?" He looked up, feeling some of the tension wring out of him. Sirius was leaning against the doorframe, looking more tired and worn out than he ever had. Faint white lines crisscrossed down his throat, but otherwise there were no signs that he had nearly been burnt to a crisp. "I'd like a quick word."

Harry glanced over at Hermione, but his bushy -haired friend hadn't even acknowledged another presence in the room. Assuaging himself that whatever knowledge she was seeking would be company enough for a few minutes, he followed his godfather down the stairs and outside.

"I know we probably shouldn't be out here," Sirius answered his query before he could even voice it, "but…" his eyes narrowed at the house and he bit his lip. "Well, we'll be inside soon enough."

It was quiet for a few moments, eerily so. No birds chirping or gnomes skulking from the bushes looking for trouble. There wasn't even so much as a breeze. Everything was still, as though the world had been put on pause.

"You disobeyed me." The sternness surprised Harry, as he was more accustomed to hearing that strict tone from Mrs. Weasley, not his reckless, devil-may-care godfather. Harry felt a bubble of defiance well up inside his chest and he latched onto it, pushing his grief down where it would never come up again.

"So?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question. "I saved your life." Sirius raised an eyebrow but his eyes remained cool.

"So you did. But, from my understanding, you had a pretty close shave yourself." Harry let out a huff that was close to a laugh if it wasn't so high pitched and bordering on hysterics.

"And who'd you hear that from, huh? Remus?" He wasn't sure why he was suddenly being a git to the man who had hijacked a Hippogriff to rescue him from hordes of zombies, but he couldn't stop the words pouring from his mouth. "If you're coming to lecture me then save your breath because he beat you to it." Sirius's eyes flashed and he leaned closer to Harry's face.

"You think this is a lecture? That I'm going to scold you like you got a bad mark on a test or broke curfew or something?" his voice was rising, and Harry suppressed the urge to hush him. "This is more than that! This is your life! For God's sakes, Harry, your life was in serious danger!"

"And it wasn't before? I've been walking around with a target on my back for nearly 15 years, Sirius! A few zombies doesn't mean I'm going to lock myself in a room while everyone else around me gets eaten!"

"But it's okay if you do?"

"I never said that! You're twisting my words!" Some faint part of him was aware that they were nearly shouting at each other, but he was too far gone to care. All those emotions boiled inside him and he couldn't suppress the grief and agony and worry anymore.

"Well, you sure act like it! Throwing yourself into danger, taking on not one but two! What the hell were you thinking?"

"What does it matter?" Harry spat the words like nails, "Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this?"

"I can't lose you!"

"I can't either!" Harry blurted out. Eyes widened, and they both stepped back; suddenly the outdoors seemed far too cramped a space. A flush crept up Harry's face while Sirius looked simply dumbstruck. There was a tenseness to the air that only grew more awkward as the moments slipped by; each unwilling to speak first, to already impose more than they already have.

"I…what?" he sputtered finally. Looking thoroughly defeated, Sirius ducked his head, running a bony hand through his gnarled hair.

"Look Harry," he began in a low voice, "I have lost your mother, your father, and a best friend turned traitor. I have no family to speak of. I-"

"You've got Remus," Harry pointed out. Sirius gave a hollow laugh.

"Remus and I will never be the same," and his voice trembled a little. "There's 12 years of bad blood and distrust between us and unfortunately those don't go away so easily. Too much has changed, and we're not schoolboys anymore.

"The point is…" Sirius paused, visibly hesitating. "The point is, you are the only one I've got left. You're the most important person…" he trailed off, torn between embarrassment and raw pain.

"I feel the same way," Harry admitted, looking down at his worn trainers.

"It's not the same," Sirius responded gruffly. "There are other adults around who care about you, like Molly." Harry's head snapped up at that.

"Mrs. Weasley has six other children to care for," he retorted, but he couldn't muster up anymore anger now. "Especially with Percy," he swallowed and found he could not say the rest. "Well, they need her a lot right now."

"And Remus? Dumbledore?" Sirius questioned, and he looked genuinely intrigued.

"Dumbledore has basically the world's salvation on his shoulders," there was an abrupt wave of sympathy for the wizened Headmaster and Harry felt guilty for his earlier outburst. "And Remus-" As much as Harry cared for his ex-DADA professor, it wasn't Remus who had sent him daily letters last year, or risked his life again and again for Harry's sake. "He's not you."

"As flattering as that is Harry, it still doesn't change the fact that I'm your godfather. And you constantly sticking your neck out to save me is not how it's supposed to work."

"I won't stand by and watch you die," he echoed firmly, meeting Sirius's gaze unflinchingly. "I noticed I wasn't the only one taking stupid, unnecessary risks today," He gave Sirius a significant look that coaxed a strained smile from the older man.

"That's different, Harry. You're my responsibility and I sure as hell wasn't letting Snivellus be the one to rescue you."

"Well, it's like you said, you're my godfather. So yeah, I'm going to do anything to protect you." Sirius shook his head slowly, letting out a small groan of frustration.

"No, Harry. Just no. I won't let you die to save me."

"And I won't let you die, period." They regarded each other for a long moment, but with no steel in their gaze. The growing realization danced between them, waiting to be spoken to life.

"That's irresponsible," Sirius said, but there was less conviction in his voice.

"There's nothing you can do to stop me," Harry remained as stubborn as ever. "And there's nothing I can do to stop you," he added somewhat unhappily. Sirius's lips twisted into a hard fought smirk.

"Both too stubborn, too reckless, and caring far too much. That's a toxic combination if I ever saw one. We're going to die trying to save each other."

"I'll watch your back if you watch mine?" he offered. The internal battle raging in his godfather played out across the skeletal features though Harry had a good idea which side would emerge victorious. Sure enough, Sirius shook his head, using his fingers to squeeze his eyes shut.

"Just promise me that you'll at least have some regard for your own life," he pleaded. "I really don't know what I'd do if I lost you." It was like someone had struck a match in the pit of his stomach, spreading warmth throughout his aching limbs. Throat too tight to speak, Harry could only nod.

Without warning, Sirius stuck out his hand, as if they had just made an important pact that was only valid if they shook on it. It was ridiculous, especially in light of everything going on around them, but there was something hangingin the air, full of loose ends and unspoken sentiments, and there needed to be some sense of closure.

Harry took the warm palm in his own, feeling slightly silly as he did so. Before he could withdraw, the hand pulled him forward, and he felt two arms wrap around him.

It was the most awkward hug Harry had ever found himself in, vastly different than when Mrs. Weasley or even Hermione hugged him. It was stiff, and neither quite knew how to hold each other, hands constantly shifting from mid-back to across the shoulders.

But, Harry didn't care. He let his head sink against the jutting ribcage, heart exploding with something he couldn't identify; something that made grief and anxiety feel very far away.

As they pulled apart, clearing their throats loudly and trying to supress sappy grins, Harry allowed himself to dwell in this rare moment of peace. There was so much hell and torment bearing on towards them, fraught with uncertainty and dismal odds, but Harry could take comfort in the fact that he had an adult whose chief concern was him, who considered him the most important facet of his life, and who was willing to stick by until the very bitter end.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

"_Numbers are growing at an alarming rate and experts-"_

"_-like we've ever seen before. I'm honestly not sure we-"_

"_-dead? Half-bloods and Muggleborns tell us they are "zombies", and recommend everyone stay in a secure location, not to venture-"_

"_Reports are flooding in from around the country, around the continent even. I cannot keep up with them, there's more coming-"_

"_-safe zones are being established, but typical Ministry, it is all hush-hush-"_

"_We're doomed. This is the end. Mother, forgive me."_

The windows had been fortified along with all the doors and any other opening that zombies could squeeze themselves into. They had established a "Quiet Time", which was as soon as the sun began to dip behind the horizon. Anyone speaking above hushed tones would be rewarded with a withering glare, and loud noises were strictly forbidden after the Weasley Wizard Wheezes Scare, where one of the twin's fireworks had unexpectedly exploded, sending everyone into a tailspin of panic. Harry had never seen Fred and George look so ashamed of themselves and all their creations were promptly locked away.

Each room containing a sleeping minor was accompanied by an adult, which had been extremely disconcerting at first, neither party knowing what the boundaries were. Luckily, Sirius had parked himself wherever Harry was residing, and since Ron was already familiar with him, the atmosphere was the most relaxed in the entire household. He told tales of an age long since passed, filled with pranks against Snape (Harry wasn't sure it was entirely moral for him to be laughing at a dead man) and close calls with McGonagall; Harry and Ron listened with amusement and a sickening sense of loss that hung heavy in the air long after Sirius had turned in for the night.

Every precaution had been taken, and any time someone thought of something else, the adults crawled all over themselves to remedy the problem. Their only connection to the outside world was the weathered radio Mr. Weasley had dredged up from his shed; the last time he had ever ventured there. The constant hum of voices, some panicked and some cold and rational filled every corner of the dwelling. The radio was never shut off, not even at night when bodies were tossing and turning, fighting down nightmares of deadened eyes and limbless corpses. Just in case some important news came in. Just in case they had to act. Just in case.

Mrs. Weasley still wasn't herself; she would still come down to the kitchen with red-rimmed eyes, staring outside the window. Harry found himself cooking most of the meals; not because he was forced to, but to relish in the act of doing _something_. Hermione had offered to take over one night but after everyone could barely choke down their runny meal, it was an unspoken agreement that Harry was now the chef.

His 15th birthday had come and gone. It was one of the few times Mrs. Weasley had seemed to return to herself, greeting him with a too-long embrace as he stumbled bleary- eyed into the kitchen. She had even made a cake, hot and delicious that melted in their mouths. The tension had broken as everyone threw themselves in creating a day to mask the horror now gripping their world. No one had gifts, of course, but they had fun anyway imagining more and more outlandish presents they would have bought, and Harry was laughing for the first time in weeks. He could almost forget why such a mismatched group of people was crowded in the Burrow.

But that night, coming out of the bathroom, Sirius had accosted him in the hall. Gripping his shoulders, he had stared at him long and hard.

"I'm sorry," he had whispered, and Harry knew it wasn't because it was Quiet Time, "I'm sorry that your birthday had to be like this." And, before Harry could try and brush off his apology, Sirius had quickly kissed his temple and made his way downstairs.

The Order was having near daily meetings, which the children were barred from. Sometimes they would last for hours, others mere minutes. Most of the wizards remained tight lipped about their contents, but Sirius had no qualms on filling his two wards in.

"More quarrelling," he sighed one night, plopping himself down on the floor. "We're about evenly split on what our next move is. Half of us want to stay here and the other half want to go for it."

"Go for what, exactly?" Ron asked. Sirius let out his infamous bark of a laugh that contained no humour.

"We can't even agree on that, Ron. Some want to go to Diagon Alley, some want to go to St. Mungo's, some want to even get to North America. I think some just want to _go_, and they don't really give a fuck where they end up."

Harry had a pretty good idea which category Sirius fell into.

For now though, they remained, forging a routine founded on the basis of constantly watching each other and the windows. Any sudden movement and the whole house went as still as Muggle photographs, until the danger had revealed itself as harmless and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief that their luck had not run out.

It was strange to spend so much time with people he had only seen fleetingly, or had never known at all. The Burrow felt surreal with all these new faces greeting him around every corner, merging their way into his life. He got to see up close many of Dumbledore's quirks such as his penchant for humming elaborate symphonies while he ate. To see the formidable Headmaster in such a human setting gave Harry a kind of unexpected comfort, a reason to hang onto hope.

He also got to know Sirius on a much deeper level than he ever could have hoped after Pettigrew escaped their clutches. He definitely lived up to his reputation as irreverent and sarcastic, describing the way he would shoot down plans he disagreed with at Order meetings ("Try and make a run for it? Are they fucking daft?"). But, there was also a softer side, much more subtle that was only recognizable after spending time with him in close quarters. Like the way he would always sit beside Harry at meal time, or ruffle his hair and wink at him if Harry became too lost in grim thoughts. He was never too far away from wherever Harry was, and Harry found that he wanted it to stay that way.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

"I think I've finally narrowed it down," Hermione said, closing her book with a snap. It was mid-afternoon and the sun was blazing cheerfully. The under-age wizards were lounging in the living room, trying to quell their frustration at yet another Order meeting they had been ejected from. They had been half-heartedly playing their umpteenth Gobstone game and Hermione's tired voice was a welcome relief.

"About what?" Fred urged when she didn't continue. Hermione tapped a finger on the book's cover.

"The cause of the zombies. I've been researching and I've found some likely explanations that keep popping up." The atmosphere in the room was instantly alert. The Weasley children all leaned forward in their seats, but Harry settled further into his squashed armchair. He had an idea on what Hermione's theories would be, having discussed them with her and Tonks on numerous occasions.

"For starters, I think it definitely is not the result of magic."

"Why?" Ginny immediately cut in, frowning deeply at the busy haired teen. She had been growing increasingly restless as the days went by, becoming more irritable and short-tempered with everyone. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to swallow her frustration and prevent another row.

"Firstly, the absence of You-Know-Who. I think it's pretty clear he's the only one who could have caused this to happen practically overnight, yet he's nowhere to be found. What's more, loyal Death Eaters have been bitten as well, and not even he is sadistic enough to allow his followers to become a threat.

"Secondly, the fact that these are zombies and not Inferi. Wizards only have a limited amount of spells to re-animate the dead in any manner and no spell I've found can cause anything like Muggle zombies. Also, the fact that this works as an infection is akin to biological warfare, something wizards aren't known to dabble in. Now, can I continue?" When Ginny could only mumble darkly in response, Hermione turned to the rest of them.

"So, as I was saying, I've found a few common explanations. One is religious. Most religions have the dead coming back to life as some sort of signifier of the end of the world. But, I really don't believe that's the real cause, not with how drawn out this thing has become. Besides, they don't talk about the dead turning others into them, and eating people.

"What I think is that it's probably a government experiment gone wrong. It could be biological warfare or a mutated virus that got out of control. It could be the result of nuclear radiation. It could be either military or the scientific community at fault."

"Why the government?" Ron asked. "Why the hell would they be messing around with things like that?"

"It's always the government," Harry answered, rubbing his temples wearily. "Either they did it to gain advantage in war or they did it for humanitarian reasons."

"Think about it," Hermione added, "the Muggle government has the most resources in terms of money and skilled people. It has all the power. This is definitely not the work of individuals, though I suppose it could have originated from some turncoat scientific group working alone." Fred issued a groan, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Well thank God it's just the government. I was really worried that it'd be something impossible."

"We should tell Dumbledore," Ron said, looking around the room for support. "I'm sick of being caged up here." There were murmurs of agreement from all and Harry gave his mate a grateful look for voicing what they all had been thinking.

"Harry and I have been talking with Tonks about this and she agrees with my theory. She probably has let them know in the meetings."

"Then why are we still here?" Ginny growled. "Enough sitting around, it's time for action!" George was nodding rapidly in agreement.

"Who knows how many zombies are running around now? If we keep staying here it might be too late to fix all this."

"You can't just march up to a government facility and demand a fix-it," Hermione said tersely, earning her a few glares. "Well, honestly! We don't know exactly what caused the zombies only that it probably originates from the government. We don't know what facility or arm of the government to even begin looking at and we don't even know what the antidote will be! Running out of here with only righteous indignation will just get us killed."

"Well then, why don't you crack open that book of yours and start finding some answers," Ginny spat, eyes flashing. Hermione drew in a sharp inhalation and Harry sensed another vicious fight between the two coming.

"Okay, let's just stop," he spoke up in a placating tone. "We'll talk to Dumbledore and see what he says. I'm sick of you two biting each other's head off every minute." He didn't know whether to feel relieved or insulted when their sharp eyes turned to him.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

"So, you think this is some Muggle experiment gone wrong?" Arthur said wearily, speaking more to the kitchen table than the Headmaster.

"I have had my suspicions for some time now," Dumbledore confirmed, sounding as though he had aged decades. "The children approached me today saying they had reached a similar conclusion."

"Alright, so the Muggles fucked up. That still doesn't bring us any closer to what we're actually going to do about it," Sirius ground out.

"I think it's absolutely critical information," Kingsley replied smoothly. "Now, we can focus our efforts on Muggle institutions. This is good, Albus," and he shot Dumbledore a curiously reassuring expression. Dumbledore acknowledged it with an incline of his head.

"Sirius is right, however; we must forge a concrete, well-thought out plan of action. Kingsley, when you were at the British Prime Minister's office, did you see or hear anything suspicious?" Kingsley grimaced.

"Honestly, there was far too much chaos; the zombies overran the building moments after we arrived. I focused on trying to maintain his survival and for his part, he seemed understandably terrified. If he knew about any of this beforehand he never mentioned it."

"Is it possible he had no idea it was going on?" Bill suggested. Dumbledore placed his fingertips together.

"It most certainly is, but unlikely. I have had liaisons with the Muggle government on more than one occasion and the Prime Minister usually has his finger on the pulse of every faction of his government. He may not have known it was not going as planned but I doubt he was unaware an experiment was happening."

Nobody said anything for a while. The second meeting of the day and everybody was burnt out and more than sick of repeating the same theories and questions. Dumbledore surveyed his ragtag army, unravelling so rapidly and felt a stab of anguish. He could very well empathize for the growing restlessness, but after Severus and Percy he refused to be so callous with their decisions. If that brewed resentment then so be it.

"So… does anyone know anything about the Muggle government?" Bill asked, unsnapping the elastic from his hair and shaking the red mane out. Eyes slid to their neighbour not-so-discreetly only to be met by half shrugs and pursed lips. Soon enough, all eyes were on Tonks, who had long since done away with her pink hair. Instead it was short and brown, as no-nonsense as she had become. Heaving a sigh at her new role as second-in-command, she twisted her hands together and addressed the room.

"I know a little bit, but I was never very interested in politics, much less Muggle politics," she admitted and was met with crestfallen expressions. Her stomach bunching into knots, she hastened to add, "But between Harry, Hermione, and I I'm sure we could piece together enough information. I have an idea of where to start looking for information; either the military or risk going back to the Prime Minister's office to look for archival information."

At that, the atmosphere in the room took on an electrical charge as allies and foes began to glower at each other from across the table. It was an old feud playing itself out again, a song that they knew a little too well.

"Good. When do we start?" Sirius was the first to speak up, as he often was. Beside him, Remus shifted slightly, clearly agreeing with his old friend but wary of his bombastic tactics.

"I'd say soon," Tonks said, nodding in the direction of her cousin, who gave her a smirk back. "By the sounds of the radio, this is only getting worse and if we can find out any information, we can start fixing this."

"It's too dangerous," Molly's frail voice responded. While her eyes were no longer constantly bloodshot, her normally plump face was noticeably drawn in, a shell of her former self. There were silent exchanges at her disapproval, nobody willing to shut her down in the face of her tremendous loss. Well, most of the group anyway.

"Listen, Molly, sitting shut up in here is no less dangerous than going out there. Sooner or later, they will find us. You are not far from a Muggle village. We've been lucky so far. It won't last forever," Sirius said in what he probably thought was a gentle tone but came out as harsh and rough as sandpaper. Arthur immediately put an arm around his wife, shooting daggers at the black- haired man.

"We've made this house almost as safe as Grimmauld Place. There's no reason why we need to act as the saviours of Europe," he shot back. "You've heard others on the radio say they'll take up that _noble_ cause," he hissed between clenched teeth, causing Sirius to smash together his own jaw.

"There's no reason to mock me," his voice took on a dangerous edge. Remus put a hand on his forearm and shot him a warning look.

"Dad, I know it's been hell lately," Bill said softly, his eyes over-bright. "But it would be immoral to sit by and do nothing if we have the capability to help stop this. Isn't that why you joined the Order in the first place?"

"That was before…" and all the anger seemed to drain out him instantaneously, leaving a withered and broken man behind. "Don't say it's the same. Don't try and equate the two, Bill. Don't." Bill swallowed loudly before shaking his head and looking away from his father. Speaking so softly he could barely be heard, "It's what Percy would have wanted." Molly's lips trembled dangerously, and she turned and buried her face in her husband's chest. Even Sirius had the tact to look slightly ashamed.

"Albus, you've heard this all before," Kingsley directed his leader alone, dark eyes haunted with the same heavy weight of guilt reflected in the Headmaster's eyes. "You know what everyone thinks, you've heard what the radio's been saying. It's your call."

Dumbledore rested his forehead on his pressed finger tips, closing his eyes. Moments passed, pregnant with bated breath. The climax had finally arrived; after this there would be no going back. They would either forge together as one unit, for better or for worse, or splinter off and rush headlong into their own perceived destiny. Knuckles whitened with anxiety, lips were bit until they bled, and all eyes were locked on one man to give the order.

"Well, Albus? What do we do?"

**A/N:** Hello, c'est moi! Were you all perhaps worried that hordes of zombies ate me Umbridge style? Well, I am alive but school was hectic last semester and I really had to throw myself into it. But enough about me! Anyway, another action-less chapter, but as the arc of this story is shaping up to be quite long, I want to have both vomit-inducing gore and character driven chapters for a well-rounded story. This marks the end of Part 1 as it were (but I will still be posting chapters under this story), and Part 2 will introduce new and expand on old plot points, perhaps feature newish characters and of course, upping the zombie carnage until Fanfiction bans me for my disgusting ways. So if you're all a little tired of the endless "OMGWTFBLT what are zombies, why are they here, Voldemort?" then fear not! Part 2 reins this in. But, this was all necessary to lay the groundwork for Part 2.

Anyway, super long A/N is super long, (but it has been a long absence) so let me end by saying the next chapter WILL be posted quicker than this one. Thank you once again to all my amazing, wonderful, marvellous reviewers, followers, favouriters, and poll voters! You guys never fail to bring a smile to my face. Reviews are always love, and constructive criticism is always welcome (but not flames, because those are senseless and eye-roll inducing). Hopefully you enjoy this chapter!


	11. IMPORTANT PLEASE READ

Hello to my loyal readers!

I promised myself I would never do one of these "author notes as an actual chapter" but alas, this one is too important to simply relegate to my profile page or tacked on to the end of a real chapter.

Don't worry, I'm not abandoning it! But this A/N is regarding the future direction of my story. Now, as I'm in my last week of school with final exams ending this Saturday (and yes, I should be studying but you guys have been neglected enough by school ;) ) I want to get back to writing ASAP. But, I've hit a snag in that this story has about three different directions it could take. So, I really need your help in deciding where to take this story, lest I choose something wildly unpopular.

So yes, another poll has been placed in my profile. Fanficiton likes to bungle up the order, but I've put numbers so that you know which grouping you vote for. 1-3 are one group, 4-6 are one group, 7-9 are one group, 10-11 are one group and 12-13 are the last. (I know you could probably figure that out but just to avoid any confusion!) Please vote for one option per group, and if possible, review or PM me about why you want that option. (If there is still confusion, feel free to ask for clarification!)

I need as many votes as possible and the quicker they come in; the quicker I can start hammering out the next phase of this story because I'm really at a crossroads here. I don't want to write this story chapter by chapter as I have been doing and then paint myself in corners with a plot line I don't like anymore (as has happened!) This way, I know in general what direction to go in and plan accordingly.

Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who loves this story, has reviewed or alerted or anything. And thank you for your infinite patience regarding my abysmal record of updating. The next chapter, provided enough votes come in, should be up in 2-3 weeks. Again, thanks!


End file.
